


Of Flesh and Metal Hearts

by stormflight777



Series: Electric Love [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor/OC - Freeform, Crime Scenes, Crime Solving, Dark Past, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Idk what to tag this as, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Canon, Rediscovery, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Violence, cyborg, pacificist revolution, police investigations, really slow burn guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-06-18 22:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 210,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15496566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormflight777/pseuds/stormflight777
Summary: They built her to be a weapon. A perfect blend of human and android, she bears the advantages and follies of both species. Three months after the android liberation, Wren is sent by the people controlling her to kill Markus. But Wren refuses to be their weapon, and goes with the intention of dying to free herself. She never expected to be spared by an android. She certainly never expected to find a family in Detroit.Connor never expected Wren's broken pieces to fit with his own.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I'm new to AO3. This is also on FF.net, but I was hoping to widen my audience. This story does contain some graphic stuff, like sexual abuse, physical/mental abuse, physical and psychological torture, etc. If any of that stuff bothers you, please be careful if you read this. I don't want to cause any distress, so I will post trigger warnings in chapters that mention those things. Thank you to everyone who reads this.   
> Feedback is much appreciated!

* * *

 

“First day back on the job,” said Hank, shrugging on his coat. “How does it feel?”

Connor tilted his head. He searched his systems to discern his _feelings_. Three months had passed since Markus’s peaceful uprising, yet Connor still found himself analyzing different emotions. Some were easier to identify than others, but more often than not, Connor confronted more than one emotion at a time. Hank had assured him that this was normal, but Connor still felt that more than one emotion at a time complicated his ability to identify them. Hank had chuckled at Connor’s comment, stating flatly, _“Welcome to humanity, kid. Told you emotions always screw things up.”_   

After the uprising, androids had found themselves struggling to establish cooperation with the humans. Despite the evacuation, many humans chose to remain in Detroit. Markus thus far had managed to establish diplomacy with the humans, though the notion of paying androids for their work had taken longer to pass. So, Connor had been without a job for three months until that Monday, when Captain Fowler told Hank to bring Connor with him to work. The Detroit Police Department officially hired Connor, along with many of the other androids who had worked there prior to the uprising. Connor had spent the week taking the required tests (Fowler insisted on the formality) to join the force. Today, however, was Connor’s first official day as a detective.

Connor returned to Hank’s question, his brow furrowing as he considered his feelings. Hank had purchased him an emotion thesaurus, a book meant for writers, to help Connor understand his feelings. It had helped to a degree, but the reality was that androids felt a bit differently than humans, due to biocomponents rather than organs. Nevertheless, Connor went over the things he had read to identify his emotions.

His biocomponents seemed to quiver and his core temperature had risen a few degrees. Connor had identified these symptoms as _anxiety_. His thirium pump regulator beat at an escalated rate as well. While this could be attributed to anxiety, Connor did not feel agitated by the feeling. He knew this to be _excitement_.

Connor turned to Hank with a soft smile. “I’m looking forward to it, though I do have some reservations.”

“Reservations?” Hank asked, looking around the kitchen.

Connor knew that the lieutenant sought his car keys and walked over to the counter, reached behind the coffee pot, and grabbed the keys. “You really should hang up your keys by the door, lieutenant. That would make them easier to find.”

“What’s with the ‘lieutenant’ shit? You don’t need to call me that,” Hank took the keys from Connor’s extended hand. “C’mon, don’t wanna be late your first day.”

Connor dipped his head. He patted Sumo’s head in farewell before following Hank out the front door. The last week of January had greeted Detroit with fresh snow, so Connor insisted on driving. He climbed into the driver’s seat while Hank grumbled and slid into the passenger side. Connor backed out of the driveway and headed for the police station.

“So? What reservations you got?” Hank prompted, folding his arms.

“Oh,” said Connor, the corners of his mouth dropping, “I suppose I am anticipating my colleagues’ responses to my being there as a paid employee, rather than just a machine.”

“You’re worried what other people will think?” Hank sounded mildly incredulous.

Connor tilted his head. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Don’t concern yourself with the thoughts of others,” said Hank, “people will always have opinions. The only ones who matter are those close to you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Connor affirmed. However, he wasn’t sure he did “get it.”

They arrived at the precinct, where Connor parked in Hank’s designated spot. Together, they entered the building. Connor followed Hank to the bullpen. The other officers paid him no mind, though Officer Chris Miller dipped his head in greeting as he walked past. Connor’s thirium regulator seemed to sink a little. He supposed he expected a little more congratulation from his colleagues, but he also didn’t blame them. Androids as living beings was a difficult concept for humans (even for some androids), so the reality of androids working for payment must seem even stranger. Connor took a seat at his desk across from Hank.

“Do we have a case?”

Hank raised an eyebrow at Connor. “Are you kidding?”

Connor’s eyebrows pulled together. “No.”

“We’ll get one when we get one,” said Hank, “just wait.”

Connor’s posture relaxed in his seat. _Just wait_. Connor’s new objective blinked in the corner of his eye.

Connor ended up waiting for the rest of the week for an android-human related case to arrive. He and Hank entered the station on time and waited, working on reports in the meantime, until that evening. Fowler called them into his office, looking a bit pale.

“Just got a call from Jericho,” said Fowler, pacing his office. “They’ve got a hostage situation.”

Connor frowned as his chest tightened. A hostage situation? How did someone manage to do that? “Has the assailant made any demands?”

“No,” said Fowler, “and the media doesn’t know yet. I wanna keep it that way. From what I know, it’s some human woman. She’s got an android at gunpoint and seems mentally unstable. That’s all I know.”

Connor dipped his head. He turned to Hank, who blew out a breath, puffing out his cheeks. Hank met Connor’s gaze and shrugged. “Well, you wanted some action, didn’t ya?”

The drive to the new headquarters of Jericho was short but tense. Connor led the way inside. An android told them to take the elevator to the thirtieth floor. As the elevator took Connor and Hank up, Connor withdrew his coin.

Hank let out a sigh but didn’t snatch the coin away. “How do you wanna play this?”

Connor frowned. “We need to gather as much information as we can. I’ll approach the assailant. You see if you can get any bystanders to safety.”

“I’m not leaving you to deal with this on your own,” Hank snapped.

“Then see if you can find a vantage point if the assailant needs to be taken down,” instructed Connor.

“You think you can talk them down?”

“I want to try.”

“Okay,” said Hank, “but I don’t like our odds.”

Connor calculated their odds.

**//Probability of Success: 7%//**

“Neither do I.” 

The elevator dinged with their arrival to the thirtieth floor. Markus greeted them immediately. “It’s North, she’s… I should’ve stopped this.”

“This isn’t your fault,” said Connor.

Markus rubbed his head. “It happened so fast.”

“Where are they?” Hank queried, looking around.

“In my office,” said Markus, gesturing in the direction of said room. “She said she came here to kill me, but she hasn’t tried to do anything. She just has North.”

“She hasn’t made any other demands?” Connor queried.

Markus shook his head. “None. Everyone who works this floor is hiding in the storage room on the other side, so they’re safe… But I couldn’t leave North.”

“Understandable,” said Hank. “Is there a vantage point or something? We might need to take her out.”

Markus shook his head. “She’ll see you coming; the walls are made of glass.”

“Damn,” muttered Hank.

Connor ran a statistical diagnostic.

**//Probability of Success: 12%//**

Their odds were still poor, but Connor knew they would drop again if he didn’t start negotiating soon. He turned to Hank and Markus. “I’m going to try talking with her. Markus, you should stay out of sight. Hank, you should come with me but stay behind me.”

“Stay behind you?” Hank growled.

“Your presence might upset her, but she’ll see you coming anyway, and we can’t not have a gun on her.”

“Fine. But for the record, I don’t like you taking the fire.”

“I’m easier to repair than you are, Hank,” Connor reminded the lieutenant with a small smile. He led the way to Markus’s office, Hank following. Connor adjusted his tie beneath his Kevlar. Hank wore one, too. But vests didn’t protect from headshots. Connor held up his hands and entered the office.

The woman holding North at gunpoint was not what Connor expected. She was slightly shorter than North, with dark red hair that reached her shoulders. She did not seem unstable like Daniel had been. She flinched every so often, but other than that, she seemed collected and cold. She narrowed her eyes when Connor and Hank entered the room. Her eyes flicked to the gun in Hank’s hands before meeting Connor’s gaze.

Connor initiated a facial recognition scan of the woman.

**//Error: No Match Found//**

Connor’s brow pinched slightly. It was extremely rare to come across people who did not show up in facial recognition data, as all citizens were supposed to be subjected to it. However, in some cases, such as in trained operatives and foreigners, it was not entirely unusual.

“You’re the only cops they sent?” The woman had an American accent, so Connor ruled out her being from a different country.

“We handle human and android related cases,” said Connor.

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Small division, huh?”

“We’re new,” snapped Hank.

Connor glanced toward his partner, pursing his lips slightly before turning back to the woman. “My name is Connor. This is Hank. We just want to talk.”

The woman snorted. “Talking isn’t going to help.”

“Why the fuck not?” Hank barked.

Connor shot another warning glare at his partner. Hank ignored him. Connor looked back at the woman and calculated a statistical analysis.

**//Probability of Success: 11%//**

“You should’ve sent more cops,” said the woman, shaking her head. “I’m hard to kill.”

Connor stiffened. **//Suspect has suicidal tendencies?//**

“What’s your name?” Connor queried, stepping closer, hands still raised.

The woman frowned at him. “Wren.”

“Wren,” Connor tried, “I just want to talk. Can we do that for a few minutes?”

“What’s the point?” Wren said coldly.

**//Probability of Success: 10%//**

“Help me understand why you’re doing this. North has done nothing wrong,” Connor said gently, stepping forward.

**//Probability of Success: 15%//**

Wren’s eyes flicked to North before returning to meet Connor’s. “This isn’t the first time I’ve hurt someone innocent.”

Connor took a moment to process this information. Perhaps Wren felt guilty, which was why she wanted to die. He decided to press about North. “You want Markus dead, but you took North, not him. Why?”

“My mission is to neutralize Markus.”

**//Probability of Success: 14%//**

Connor froze. _My mission is to neutralize the leader of the deviants._ He took another step forward. “You’re an assassin?”

“Of sorts,” said Wren, wincing.

**//Probability of Success: 23%//**

“Did CyberLife send you to kill Markus?” Connor queried.

Wren shook her head, her eyelids fluttering as she grimaced. She seemed pained.

**//Probability of Success: 21%//**

“Why take North, Wren? You had every opportunity to accomplish your mission, yet you chose to take a hostage. Why?” Connor asked quietly, daring to take another small step forward.

“I… I don’t want to kill Markus,” Wren breathed. Tears welled in her eyes.

**//Probability of Success: 34%//**

Connor frowned as Wren flinched again. Her eyes flashed open. “Please, you have to kill me to stop me.”

Connor’s brow pinched. “I don’t think you want to die. You would’ve tried something to get one of us to shoot you.”

**//Probability of Success: 31%//**

Wren laughed, though it was a bitter sound. “I don’t _want_ to die, I _have_ to. Please. I can’t fight it much more.”

“Fight what?” demanded Hank.

Wren turned her head and grimaced, as though she had a headache. “My… programming…” She spat the words out through gritted teeth.

**//Probability of Success: 31.5%//**

Connor stilled. Programming? He narrowed his eyes and ran a scan of her. She had a normal heart and other vital organs. Yet there was something strange about her that sent Connor’s eyebrows straight up.

“Are you some sort of prototype assassin android?” Hank questioned.

“Not exactly,” said Wren.

Connor closed his mouth. He needed to stop gaping at her and help North. He stepped toward Wren and North again. A few bounds and he could tackle them to the floor, but he didn’t want to resort to violence just yet. “Let us help you,” Connor murmured, “Let North go and we can talk.”

“I can’t!” Wren cried. She pointed the gun at him and shot him in the shoulder. Connor fell to the floor with a grunt. “Kill me before I kill you!” Wren clutched her head, her eyes squeezed shut. The gun was no longer pointed at North’s temple. North shoved away from Wren and hurried to where Hank stood. Hank pulled the trigger, shooting Wren in the shoulder. She let out a cry and fell to the floor. Connor hurried and snatched Wren’s gun away from her. Hank hurried over, peering down at Wren.

“Holy shit,” Hank breathed.

Connor found the sentiment suitable for the situation. He looked down at Wren’s left shoulder, eyes wide. Half of the wound in Wren’s shoulder was bleeding red while the other half bled blue. Connor was aware of two other presences behind him, but he was too stunned by the blood and thirium pouring out of Wren to look at them.

Wren was still conscious. Her eyes peered up at someone behind Connor. She panted and sweat sheened her forehead. Markus crouched down beside Connor and reached out for Wren’s hand. Markus’s synthetic skin disappeared to reveal his true android skin. He touched Wren’s hand. Connor’s eyes widened and his lips parted when Wren’s hand mimicked Markus’s, synthetic skin peeled back to reveal white plastic.

“You’re free now,” said Markus gently, withdrawing his hand.

Wren gazed up at him, tears leaking from her eyes. “Thank you…” Her head lolled to the side, and she fell unconscious.

Connor called for an ambulance and worked to staunch the bleeding. Hank took Markus and North’s official statements. Markus insisted that he didn’t want to press charges but would like to speak with Wren once she was able. Hank agreed, though Connor wasn’t sure that was something they could promise. The ambulance arrived promptly and took Wren to the nearest hospital. Connor and Hank followed in their car.

They decided to wait for news, as they couldn’t leave Wren unattended. Connor’s mental processor worked in overdrive with questions. What was Wren? Who was Wren? Why had she caused such a scene? Had she purposefully failed her mission? So why couldn’t she put the gun down? Why did she insist on dying?

“Guess I’m gonna be the one to say it,” said Hank.

Connor furrowed his brow and looked at his partner. “Say what?”

“Well, more like _ask_ …” Hank muttered. He scrunched his lips together before looking at Connor with a knitted brow. “Did we just meet a _cyborg_?”

* * *

 


	2. Chapter Two

_“My name is Connor,” said the android, “I just want to talk.”_

_He was handsome, though that didn’t surprise Wren. CyberLife had never sacrificed aesthetic for efficiency. His voice was gentle and calm but authoritative –this wasn’t his first hostage situation._

_The scene shifted and Connor melted away, leaving Wren alone in a linoleum room. Where Connor had stood was a new man, though Wren recognized him as her superior. The urge to flinch away from him pulled at Wren, but she resisted it._

_“Your mission is to eliminate the android leader in Detroit, Markus. Should you get captured, your orders are to self-destruct. Do you understand your objective?”_

_Wren nodded. “Yes, sir.”_

Wren pried open her eyes, the remnants of her dream sliding out of memory. She pushed a breath through her nostrils, though something obstructed her airway. She glanced at it, and then relaxed at the sight of oxygen tubes. The heart monitor beside her bed allowed her to count the seconds, giving her a sense of time. It took approximately seven heartbeats for Hank and Connor to enter her hospital room. Wren pushed herself into a sitting position.

Hank stood to her right and folded his arms. “So, you’re a cyborg.”

Wren smirked. “What gave it away?”

“Look, now’s not the time to be a smartass. We’ve got questions, you’re gonna answer them,” snapped Hank.

Wren shrugged. “Well, you didn’t _ask_ me a question. You pointed out the obvious.”

Hank glowered. “Cute. It was a rhetorical statement.”

“Ah,” said Wren, her eyebrows lifting with mock realization, “my apologies for misunderstanding.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” said Connor. He took a few steps closer to the left side of Wren’s bedside. “You said you were sent to assassinate Markus.”

“You did a shitty job,” interjected Hank.

“I meant to,” Wren bit back, scowling at the older man. She returned her attention to Connor. “You want to know who sent me?”

“Correct.”

“They’re called Prometheus,” said Wren, ignoring the tightness in her stomach. Speaking freely about Prometheus after years of silence left a metallic taste in her mouth. She folded her hands in her lap. “Even though I’ve been with them for the past ten years, I don’t know much about them, except for they train operatives to assassinate or obtain secrets or plant evidence. They could be CIA, or even independent. I don’t even know if they’re exclusive to the U.S., or if they have operations all over the world. Both are equally plausible.”

“Prometheus,” Connor repeated, his brow puckering.

“Named for the Titan in Greek mythology, who brought fire to humans. Guess you could say they see themselves as humanity’s champion or savior, like the Greeks saw Prometheus. A bit dramatic, if you ask me, but I’m not in charge.” Wren shrugged again. If she’d had a say in the organization’s name, she’d have used an anagram, like In FBI or CIA. Much less pretentious.

“So, they wanted you to kill Markus because androids are a threat to humans? But they’ve been peaceful and diplomatic from the beginning!” said Hank. Wren watched Hank’s eyes flick to Connor, who kept his gaze steady on her. The older man paced back and forth and rubbed the back of his neck. Wren lifted her chin slightly. The man cared for the android.

“They didn’t give me a reason. I’m just their tool. They sent me with a mission and I did my best to fail.”

“Why?” Connor queried.

“I saw the uprising,” Wren explained, “I know it was peaceful. I’ve killed a lot of shitty people. But I’ve also killed some good people for Prometheus, too. Those haunt me the most.” Her eyes flicked downward.

_She peered through the scope of her rifle, eyeing her target. She tried not to think of his children at home as she pulled the trigger._

“Hey, earth to Wren,” barked Hank. Wren’s eyes jumped to his. He frowned at her. “You got a last name?”

Her stomach clenched. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t remember,” Wren snapped. “Technically, I’m not even supposed to know that my name is Wren. Prometheus always referred to me as my model number.”

“Your model number?” Connor queried, tilting his head.

Wren lifted her right arm. She rolled up her sleeve. Her arm was human down to the elbow, where her cybernetic limb began. Tattooed on the underside of her arm was a model number: CY001.

The LED on Connor’s temple circled yellow. He squinted at the tattoo and folded his arms. “That resembles the format CyberLife uses for androids.”

“Well, CyberLife is the one who did this to me, so…”

“Wait, Prometheus didn’t?” Hank shook his head.

“Prometheus and CyberLife have a contract, I think.”

“So, what? You signed on to be an experiment or somethin’?” Hank’s scowl seemed to be his resting expression.

Wren lowered her gaze. “Not exactly,” she admitted. Memories of headlights crashing into her surfaced to the forefront of her mind, but she pushed them down before she lost control. “CyberLife saved my life.”

“What?” Hank and Connor looked at each other and then back at Wren, who inhaled deeply.

She closed her eyes, unable to look at them. It seemed she had no choice but to pull those memories to the forefront of her mind. “I was in a car wreck. My car went over a cliff, and the bones in my arms and legs were shattered. I had severe trauma to my head. If they hadn’t amputated my limbs and implanted a small mental processor, I’d be a vegetable. When I woke up, I didn’t remember anything but my name. The doctors called it post-traumatic amnesia. They said it usually doesn’t last for more than a few months, but… I haven’t been the same for ten years.”  She smiled bitterly.

“You don’t remember anything?” Hank pressed.

“I get flashes of random things every now and then, but they don’t make sense. So, yeah. I don’t remember.” 

“Jesus,” Hank muttered, shaking his head again.

“Why did you want to die?” Connor asked quietly.

Wren looked at him, her heart stuttering. She looked away from Connor’s narrowed eyes and furrowed brow. She picked at her fingernails. “I… I didn’t know if I could fight the programming,” she muttered. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Her chest tightened. For a moment, it was difficult to breathe. She didn’t want to go to jail for something she couldn’t control. She met Connor’s gaze. “They programmed me to obey. They gave me a mission that I didn’t want to succeed. I’ve been with them for a decade. They’ve used that time to make me loyal to them. Humans can be brainwashed if they’re traumatized enough. I didn’t want to kill Markus. I wanted to be stopped. I was trying to fight it, I swear. I’ve been trying to break free for years, but… I couldn’t.”

“And we’re supposed to just believe that you couldn’t control it? That you’re innocent in all of this?” Hank gestured vaguely.

Wren widened her eyes at him, the color draining from her face. She looked at Connor. “I’m telling the truth,” she breathed. She held out her hands, her synthetic skin peeling away to reveal her plastic arms. “Probe my memory if you want.”

Connor drew back, his eyes widening a fraction. His LED flashed yellow. He looked at Hank, who dipped his head. Connor extended his slowly, his synthetic skin disappearing. He gripped Wren’s right forearm. She held his arm in return. A small electrical jolt passed between them as Connor connected to her memory.

< _She held the gun to the female android’s head –the one called North –and faced the android called Connor. Red walls of programming surrounded her. Her primary objective glittered in the red walls: ELIMINATE MARKUS._

_A sub objective appeared beside Connor, who approached slowly with his hands raised: ELIMINATE OBSTACLES._

_“I don’t **want** to die, I **have** to. Please. I can’t fight it much more.” _

_An electrical shock seared through her head as her programming urged her to accomplish her mission. The shock tremored through her body. She clenched her teeth to the point of pain._

_“Fight what?” She heard the older man, Hank, through the static ringing in her ears._

_“My… programming…” Wren nearly cried out as the pain intensified. It almost burned as she resisted pulling the trigger. How easy it would be, to kill North and shoot Hank. Connor might prove difficult to incapacitate, but Wren was confident that she could manage. She had never failed before. But God, did she want to._ >

Wren gasped as Connor let go of her arm abruptly, severing their connection. His LED circled red. His mouth hung ajar and he backed away from Wren as if she had slapped him.

“Connor? You alright?” Hank asked, moving toward the android and extending a hand. Wren narrowed her eyes at the exchange. The pair seemed to share a bond that went beyond a partnership on the police force. It seemed more familial.

Connor looked from Wren to Hank, his mouth still hanging open and his LED still flashing red. “She… she’s telling the truth.”

Hank peered at Wren, who watched them with a racing heart. When she looked at Connor, he avoided her gaze. Hank grabbed Connor by the elbow and led him toward the door. “Give us a few minutes.”

They stepped outside of the hospital room. Wren increased the sensitivity of her auditory components to eavesdrop on the two cops deciding her fate. Hank’s voice was sharp with static as he said, “Programming or no programming, I don’t trust her. She tried to kill Markus. Who’s to say she won’t try again?”

“She won’t,” Connor insisted quietly, “she… she deviated. You saw how Markus helped break her free.”

“But her conditioning? Brainwashing? That’s harder to break free from.”

“Hank, I saw what happened last night through her eyes. I _felt_ it. I felt pain,” Connor’s voice trembled.

“I thought androids don’t feel pain?”

“They don’t. But I felt her pain. I think her programming was directly related to her conditioning. For humans, the controller inflicts pain onto the victim in order to condition or brainwash them to respond in a certain way to specific stimuli. From what I felt, I think that her programming inflicted pain every time she diverted from her mission or expressed individualism. Hank, she’s telling the truth. She tried her best to get caught. She never even got close to Markus. A trained operative like her would have no trouble in doing so, yet she _specifically_ chose to take a hostage who had nothing to do with her mission.”

“So, what do we do with her, then? She’s not fuckin’ innocent, Connor. She said it herself that she’s killed a lot people.”

“I think we need to question her further,” said Connor. “Prometheus could still pose a threat to Markus. Wren’s information could be valuable.”

“Shit. What else could we ask?”

“I have a few questions in mind.”

“Fine. But we still need to arrest her.”

Wren switched her auditory sensitivity back to normal as Hank and Connor reentered the room.

“Well, you’re not innocent, even though you’re telling the truth,” said Hank, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “I think we have no choice but to arrest you and bring you in.”

Wren’s stomach jumped. She glanced at Connor, who stared at her with soft yet composed features. She looked back at Hank. “Please,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes, “just kill me.”

“What the fuck?” Hank frowned. He and Connor exchanged a glance.

“Why do you want us to kill you?” Connor asked gently.

Wren looked at him. “Prison won’t keep me safe. Prometheus will find me, especially now that I’ve betrayed them. They’ll find me, and when they do, they _won’t_ kill me.”

“They’ll do something worse?” Hank guessed.

Wren offered him a wry smile. She rolled up the sleeve of her right arm again, this time showing them the scars on her shoulder and bicep. Many of the scars were thin and light, but a few marked where she’d suffered more severe wounds. “They don’t take failure lightly.”

Hank’s eyes slid to Connor’s. Wren looked at him, too. His LED was yellow. Wren looked between them, the sound of her heartbeat thrashing in her ears. She gripped the sheets until she trembled. Connor thought her valuable and that Prometheus posed a threat. He was right, but she needed to convince them not to put her in jail. She needed Prometheus to think she was dead.

“CY001,” she croaked. Hank and Connor frowned at her. They waited for her to continue. “The numbers mark me as their first cyborg.”

“There are _more_ like you? Jesus Christ,” Hank walked away, rubbing the back of his head before turning to look at Wren again.  

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Well, what _do_ you know? Because I’m hearing a lot more uncertainty than actual fuckin’ answers.”

“I wouldn’t doubt there are more. Cyborgs are easier to control. The likelihood of deviancy is extremely low, which why Prometheus don’t use androids. Cyborgs have some of the advantages of androids and humans, but also the failings of both. We feel pain. Enough trauma can cause a breakdown and make us completely subservient. I know there are other operatives for Prometheus, I just don’t know if they’re cyborgs. I failed my objective, which means they’ll send someone else to finish the job. They’ll send someone who won’t fail. I’m their first, which means any other cyborgs after me have been perfected. Markus’s life is still in danger, whether the next operative they send is human, cyborg or android. I can help protect him.”

Hank narrowed his eyes. “What do you want in return?”

“To start over,” Wren murmured. “Prometheus needs to think I’m dead. But… I…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. The tears that had been pricking her eyes finally slipped down her cheeks as she stared at her hands. Her chest ached. “I’ve done a lot of terrible things. I always felt like I was watching myself do these things but I couldn’t stop it. I… I don’t want to be their weapon anymore. I want to know who I was before all of this. I-I don’t even know if I have a family,” Wren’s voice broke. She cleared her throat, her neck heating. She looked up at Connor and Hank. “Hide me from Prometheus and help me fit the pieces of my old life together, and I’ll help protect Markus. Help me, and we might can bring Prometheus down.”


	3. Chapter Three

Connor stood in the hallway outside Wren’s hospital room. He folded his arms as he looked at Hank. “Her demands aren’t ridiculous, Hank.”

“Maybe not, but how the fuck are we gonna hide her from these people? She barely knows anything. I say we lock her crazy ass up and call it a day.”

Connor frowned. Perhaps it was the excitement of this new case combined with the lack of activity over the past few months, but he was reluctant to let this go. He had connected to Wren’s memory and knew how she felt. She was _scared_ , and Connor wanted to help her. She was a deviant of sorts, which meant she needed to rediscover herself. Connor knew the feeling all too well.

He had spent the past three months waiting for bills favoring androids to pass. While Hank had worked at the DPD, Connor helped Markus, North and Josh. He had spent his time formulating law proposals, guiding new deviants to support groups and contacting representatives to support the android cause. It had taken some time for North to warm up to Connor. It didn’t take long for him to discover that the PL600 model he had found at Stratford Tower, the android he had tricked into giving the location of Jericho, the android he had felt _die_ , had been their friend Simon. It was then that Connor first discovered the unpleasant emotion called guilt.

Wren’s desire for redemption didn’t seem all that outrageous to him. Perhaps, Connor reasoned, he could redeem himself in helping her. He pushed the thought aside as his abdomen tightened. His throat seemed to thicken with a lump. He swallowed a few times to alleviate the sensation.

“I think we should agree to her terms.”

“What? Why?” Hank scowled.

“Piecing her past together could help us track down Prometheus,” said Connor, “and it helps Wren personally.”

“So? Okay, I get taking down Prometheus being good and all, but why do we care about her? She’s a killer, Connor.” Hank crossed his arms.

“So am I,” Connor replied. Hank shifted and looked away, muttering an expletive that Connor ignored. “So was the blue-haired Traci, yet you said it was for the best that we let her go.”

“Yeah, but… that was different. Wren admitted to killing good people.”

“Under Prometheus’s influence. I… I killed humans, Hank. At the CyberLife Tower, I killed several guards. They had families and lives. They were just doing their jobs. I sacrificed their lives for the revolution. I got innocent androids killed at Jericho, too. If I hadn’t found the location, it never would’ve been attacked, but I chose the mission over their lives.” Connor’s chest tightened and the lump returned to his throat.

Hank dragged a hand over his face. “Why do you care about her so much?”

Connor froze. He blinked, and then frowned. “I-I don’t care about her. I simply believe that this case would not be solved by putting Wren in jail.”

“Hmph,” muttered Hank. He jabbed a finger at Connor. “But you’re explaining this to Markus and North. They’re witnesses. Fuck, Markus is the _target_. He definitely needs to know what’s going on. I’ll go see if I can buy Dr. Willis’s silence.” Hank turned and strutted down the hall without waiting for a response. Connor watched him for several seconds before leaving.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor entered Markus’s office with North. She shut the door behind her. Markus sat at his desk, reading over a tablet, two fingers pressed against his temple as if he suffered a headache. Connor glanced at the floor, where Wren had been shot. The only evidence that there had been an attack were the red bloodstains in the carpet.

Markus smiled at Connor, who eyed his friend beneath a furrowed brow. Androids didn’t necessarily need sleep, though entering standby mode for a few hours often helped restore reduced energy. Androids could function without it, but Markus looked as if he needed it. Leading the androids seemed exhausting. Connor did not envy his friend.

“Connor,” said Markus, “what can I do for you?”

“I came to talk to you both about the other night’s events,” Connor answered, taking a seat across from Markus. North circled around the desk to stand beside Markus’s chair. She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“You need our statements?” she guessed.

Connor folded his hands in his lap. “Not exactly,” he admitted. Markus and North exchanged a glance, but waited for Connor to continue. “I can’t tell you everything, but this case is more complicated than we thought. Wren is a cyborg, and she was ordered to kill Markus. She was fighting her programming by targeting North instead.” Connor’s eyes flicked to North, who merely glowered.

Markus’s brow pinched. “How is she?”

“She’s recovering well,” said Connor. “She deviated, but she thinks that the people who sent her will send someone else after you, and she wants to help. She proposed a deal: give her a fresh start, and she’ll help us protect you and bring down the people after you.”

“She put a gun to my head,” snapped North, “and you want to help her?”

“She had every intention of getting killed that night. It’s my belief that if she had wanted to, she could have succeeded in her mission. You weren’t part of that mission, making you an obstacle that she sought out. She was trying to be stopped.” Connor leaned forward, speaking directly to Markus. “I’m not asking either of you to trust her. I’m asking that you trust Hank and me to do what needs to be done to solve this case.”

North chewed on her cheek while Markus peered at Connor with narrowed eyes. The RK200’s expression softened after a moment. “What do you need us to do?”

“We need to fake her death,” replied Connor.

North barked a laugh. “Oh, is that all?”

Connor’s eyes bored into Markus’s. “We’ve already worked out most of the details. We’ll say she died in surgery. Her image wasn’t released to the media. Any footage of her here needs to be deleted. The two of you will need to cover it up. Hank is ensuring the doctor’s silence on the matter. We will work out the rest of the details in creating her new identity.”

Markus tilted his head slightly. “You sure you’re okay with this, Connor? This is breaking the law, you know.”

Connor looked away. He flexed his jaw before meeting his friend’s gaze. “Something about this case… makes that irrelevant.”

“Meaning you just have a feeling this is important,” said North, shaking her head. She huffed. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to accomplish every mission. You have a choice, now.”

Connor tensed. “I connected to her memory. I felt the things she felt that night. She felt cornered, but wanted to do the right thing. She’s terrified of this group. They’ve been controlling her for a decade, and she’s been trying to break free. If they’re targeting Markus, and we have someone who can provide insight into this group, I think this case _needs_ to be solved.”

Markus and North looked at each other. Connor held his synthetic breath, waiting for them to finish communicating silently. At last, Markus broke eye contact with North to look at Connor. The RK200 dipped his head. “Alright. We’ll cover it up.”

Connor relaxed and stood. “Thank you. Both of you.” 

“I want to meet her,” said Markus, standing. “I have a few questions for her.”

The corners of Connor’s mouth dropped. A frown creased his forehead. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea. She’s an unpredictable variable. We don’t know how she will respond to seeing you, as she experienced psychological conditioning in addition to programming. She could revert.”

“Statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place,” Markus said. Connor lifted his chin, recognizing his own words. Markus’s lips twitched. “So, there’s a chance she won’t revert, right?”

Connor nodded. “Hank and I have to be in there with you, though. While her programming won’t force her to do anything, we can’t assume the human parts of her brain will respond the same way. You can’t be in there alone, in case she attacks.”

“Agreed,” said Markus, grabbing his coat. He looked at North. “You can handle things here?”

“Yep,” she said, sitting in Markus’s chair. Her brow puckered. “Please be careful, Markus.”

Markus smiled and kissed her cheek. Connor looked away, feeling as if he were invading a private moment. Markus rounded the desk and joined Connor by the door. Together, they left the new Jericho headquarters and called a taxi to bring them to the hospital.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

  Connor stood by Wren’s bedside, ready to restrain her if necessary. Hank entered the room, followed closely by Markus. Connor looked at Wren and scanned her.

**//Stress Levels: 68%//**

**< scan> [Accelerated heartbeat]**

**< scan> [Temperature Increase ^ 99.1 degrees Fahrenheit] **

Connor withdrew from the scan as if no time passed. Wren’s stress levels definitely increased upon seeing Markus, though it appeared she was not going to snap and attack him. Connor relaxed slightly, though remained prepared to grab Wren, should she show signs of increased stress levels. He hypothesized that if Wren reached maximum levels of stress, her reaction would parallel that of an android’s, resulting in some manner of self-destruction.

“Hello, Wren,” said Markus, stepping out from behind Hank, “how are you feeling?”

Connor glanced down at Wren, who lifted an eyebrow. “You’re pretty nice for a guy I just tried to kill.”

“From what I hear, you weren’t trying to,” countered Markus.

Wren looked up at Connor. “You told him?”

Connor dipped his head. “The basic necessary information.”

Wren returned her attention to Markus. “Yeah… I’m sorry I put your life in danger. It wasn’t… really me.”

A static memory triggered in the back of Connor’s mind:

_He knelt before Kara and Alice._

_“I was just a machine, taking orders. It wasn’t really me…”_

Connor blinked and returned his attention to Wren and Markus, his throat tightening.

“We all have a moment where we wake up,” said Markus kindly. His eyes flicked to Connor. A smirk tugged at the corners of the RK200’s mouth before looking back at Wren. “Connor pointed a gun at me before deviating.”

Connor’s lips twisted at the memory. Wren glanced toward him, but said nothing about it.

She looked back at Markus. “Look, I know it’ll take a while to earn everyone’s trust. But I really want a fresh start. I’ll do everything I can to protect you. Maybe we can bring down Prometheus, but I don’t know. I hope we can.”

Connor glanced at Markus, who regarded Wren with a furrowed brow. Connor’s eyes flicked to Hank, who wore a frown. The RK800 returned his attention to Wren, a frown of his own creasing the lines around his mouth and between his eyebrows. Something tugged in his chest. Wren reflected him in a few ways. She’d been programmed to stop Markus, leader of the deviants. She was supposed to accomplish her mission at all costs, and had succeeded until she didn’t want to. At least Connor had Hank, Markus, North and Josh to help him. Wren had no one.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Markus queried.

Wren nodded, her gaze steady. “Shoot.”

“What was deviating like for you? Did you see the red walls? Or was it different because I connected with you?” Markus leaned forward.

“I saw the walls,” muttered Wren, “but every time I tore them down, they just reformed. And it _burned_.” She paused, rubbing the back of her neck and wincing. “When I was with Prometheus, they did regular diagnostic and system scans to make sure that I wouldn’t go rogue. When the deviancy cases started popping up, they, uh, _upgraded_ my programming.” Her lips twisted. She nearly spat the word _upgraded_. Wren’s expression softened as she looked at Markus. “But then you connected with me, and… the walls cracked like glass. I tore them down and… Well, you know the rest.”

Connor folded his arms and tilted his head. He wondered if Wren would’ve been able to become deviant without another deviant’s help. He doubted it. He scanned her again.

**//Stress Levels: 50%//**

**< scan> [Body Temperature Decrease ˅ 97.4 degrees Fahrenheit] **

**< scan> [Breaths Per Minute: 12] **

**< scan> [Increased Levels of Neuropeptide NPY]**

He glanced at Markus and Hank. “She needs to rest and eat soon. Her energy levels are low.”

“Don’t analyze me,” Wren snapped. Connor’s eyebrows lifted at the sudden coldness of her tone and hardness of her stare.

Markus unfolded his arms. “I was done anyway,” he remarked. “It was nice to officially meet you, Wren.”

“You too,” said Wren, her tone softening. “I really am sorry, Markus.”

Markus’s lips twitched. “The one you really need to apologize to is North.”

“Well, if I meet her again, I’ll be sure to do that.”

“We’ll walk you out,” said Hank, gesturing to Connor, who nodded. He followed Hank and Markus into the hall. They walked way from the room and entered the lobby. Hank crossed his arms. “So, what do you guys think?”

“I think she’s free,” said Markus, “and she seems sincere about her intentions.”

Connor pressed his lips together for a brief moment. “Until we gather further information, her sincerity will remain ambiguous. There’s a fifty percent chance that she’s lying. However, I still believe that she deserves a chance. As long as we monitor her closely, the likelihood that she will betray us decreases.”

“So, how are we gonna play this out? Dr. Willis has agreed to keep his mouth shut. Can we pass her off as an android? Some sort of prototype?” Hank looked to Connor, who shook his head.

“If these events were occurring closer to the end of the uprising, I would say we could claim she were a prototype android. However, because there are no androids in production currently, using that explanation for her unique appearance won’t work. I think it’s best if we claim she’s human.”

Hank nodded slowly. “How’re we gonna keep an eye on her if we’re at work all the time?”

“Well, if she works _with_ you, that shouldn’t be a problem,” suggested Markus. “I’m sure she can apply her skills to an occupation like yours.”

“Get her a job at the DPD?” Hank scowled.

Connor tilted his head, considering the notion. “It would validate her presence at the precinct while we work her case.”

“Yeah, but it would require some… _fabrication_ on our part as to who the hell she is, where she comes from and all that.” Hank lifted his eyebrows for emphasis.

“Something tells me that Wren might have a way to do that,” said Markus. “Any resources you need, I might be able to help with. Let me know.”

“Will do,” said Hank, shaking Markus’s hand.

“Thank you,” said Connor. Markus dipped his head and left Connor and Hank to figure out their redheaded cyborg problem. Connor looked at Hank, who worked his jaw, his eyes glazed as he considered the next step.

Connor found himself in a similar train of thought. His programming helped guide him in decision-making before his deviancy, but without it, Connor found himself in a world of grey. As a machine, his programming would have instructed him to accomplish his mission by any means necessary. But Connor wasn’t a machine, which left the dilemma of what to do rather complicated. As a detective, Connor knew that fabricating a background for Wren was illegal. He should enforce the law, not break it to help one person. Yet, the threat of Prometheus seemed formidable enough that the complications of allying with Wren outweighed the discrepancies. 

He sucked in a superfluous breath. He knew what logic told him to do. But something else in him empathized with Wren. She was a deviant, albeit of a different kind. Connor’s mission had once been to capture and quell the deviants. Now, he did his best to help them.

He lifted his eyes to meet Hank’s. “Everyone does what they can to get by,” he quoted. Hank lifted his chin. Connor’s lips twisted. “I think that as long as we don’t hurt anyone, we should help her.”

Hank sighed. “Alright, let’s tell her.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren gaped at them. “You want to make a background for me and get me a job as a _detective_?”

“It’s a win-win, kid. You get your fresh start, atoning for your sins or whatever, and we get to keep a close eye on you. Plus, we can work on finding out who you are with the DPD’s resources.” Hank bounced on the balls of his feet.

Wren lowered her gaze and her brow puckered. “you’ll need my help to build a false background.”

“Yeah, we figured you’d know how to do it.”

Wren nodded slowly. “Okay. I need to go by my hotel room to get my laptop. I need to destroy it so that Prometheus thinks I’m dead.”

“How would that make them think you’re dead?” Hank narrowed his eyes.

Wren looked up at them. “I need to disable my tracker first, which should automatically delete everything on my laptop. It’s a failsafe for if I get caught.”

“Is there anything on your laptop that might help us?” Hank queried.

“Possibly,” said Wren, her forehead creasing, “so we’ll need a flash drive or something.”

“Connor could hack into it.”

Wren shook her head. “No, he couldn’t. It’s bugged. If he were to try, he’d be infected with a virus.”

“Shit,” muttered Hank. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Wren tilted her head. “Actually, if we’re trying to say I died in surgery, then I can’t leave the hospital until I’ve disabled my tracker. One of you need to get my laptop and bring it here.”

“It’s not gonna self-destruct and blow us up, is it?” Hank demanded. Connor tilted his head as he looked at Wren. She blinked, the corners of her mouth dropping.

“Bombing isn’t my style, Lieutenant,” she deadpanned.

Hank muttered something under his breath before turning to Connor. “You stay with her. I’ll grab the laptop.”

Connor tensed. “Hank, are you sure –”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Hank waved a hand, silencing Connor. The older man looked at Wren. “Give me the address and room number.” 

“Eastern Motel, room twenty-three,” said Wren. 

“In Camden?” Hank queried. Connor recognized it, too. It was the motel where he first pursed the AX400 model. He wondered how Kara and Alice were doing, and if they ever made it to Canada. He hoped they did.

“Yeah, why?”

Hank shook his head. “No reason. When’s the last time you ate?”

Connor peered at Wren and scanned her.

**< scan> [Increased Levels of NPY] **

**< scan> [Dehydration Detected] **

**//Warning: Fatigue Imminent//**

“I guess before I attacked Jericho and whatever fluids the hospital’s given me,” said Wren, rubbing her face. “However long ago that was.”

“Forty hours and thirty-seven minutes,” answered Connor.

“Thanks,” muttered Wren.

“I’ll grab ya something to eat while I’m out,” said Hank.

“There’s cash in my motel room. And… I should probably mention there’s a sniper rifle in a case there, too.”

“Anything else I should know?” Hank quirked a brow.

Wren shrugged. “There’s a false ID in my bag and some clothes.”

“Okay,” Hank huffed, “I’m out. Don’t go anywhere.”

Wren gestured to the IV in her brachial artery. “Where would I go?”

Hank ignored her comment and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Connor’s eyes narrowed as he observed Wren. Her eyes drooped, but she forced them open. She looked directly at him, resulting in him jerking his head back.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. For analyzing me.”

Connor frowned and his brow puckered. “There’s no need to apologize. You have every right to request that I don’t analyze you. I’m aware that my abilities can make people uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that, it’s… Never mind,” Wren yawned.

Connor’s lips twitched. “You should rest. I’m sure we’ll have more questions and work to do when you wake up.”

Wren nodded. She settled against the pillow. She peered at Connor for a heartbeat. “Thanks for… helping me.”

Connor offered her a soft smile and dipped his head. Wren’s eyelids slid shut. After a few seconds, Connor scanned her.

**< scan> [Status: Asleep] **

**Wren ˄ Neutral**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos!


	4. Chapter Four

_Wren couldn’t see. Her eyes slid shut every time she pried them open. Lightning flashes. She forced her eyes open, but the rain blurred her vision. No, not rain… Tears. And not lightning… Headlights. To her left. She turned her head and saw headlights. It was the last thing she saw before the other car crashed into hers. Her car skidded and spun across the pavement. Her vision danced into darkness, she couldn’t see, everything was wrong, she couldn’t control the car –_

_She was airborne, the guardrail failed to stop her car from going over the cliff. Time slowed as the car plummeted. Shards of glass floated up, glinting as they caught the light. She had floated up out of her seat. Her seatbelt locked her in place. Her heart floated, too. It soared right into her throat and lodged there._

_The car was still falling, but everything was still. Wren looked to the passenger side. Connor looked back at her, his head tilting slightly. “You can’t escape.”_

Wren gasped awake. Hands gripped her shoulders. She forced them off of her and scrambled back, her heart sprinting in her chest.

“Wren, it’s me, Connor,” said the source of the hands. Wren looked up at him, still heaving. He held out his hands, palms forward. His forehead creased as his eyebrows lifted in earnest. He crouched slightly. “I believe you were having a nightmare. Everything’s alright. You’re safe.”

Wren stared at him for several seconds, waiting for her heartbeat to calm. Her breathing evened before her heart did, but eventually, the tension left her body. She released her grip on the sheets and straightened her legs out. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Wren’s eyes grazed over him. Her stomach squirmed and she dropped her gaze. Connor wore the same clothes as the night she attacked Jericho. His jacket bore a hole in the sleeve where she shot him. Wren avoided Connor’s furtive gaze, her neck warming. “How’s your arm?”

“It’s been repaired,” said Connor. Wren met his gaze. The android simply looked at her, his face pensive.

Wren gestured loosely to his jacket. “I’ll replace it.”

Connor glanced down at it before looking back at her. “There’s no need. I have others.”

“I’m, uh… I’m really sorry,” Wren avoided Connor’s gaze again. “I didn’t want to, but…”

“I understand,” said Connor. The gentleness of his tone brought Wren’s gaze up to his. She offered him a tiny smile, which he returned.

Wren rubbed her hands against the sides of her legs. “Is Hank back yet?”

“He will be here shortly.”

Wren nodded, staring ahead. She felt the android’s gaze on her. She could practically _feel_ him analyzing her. The thought set her teeth on edge. She clenched her fists. “Don’t analyze me.” 

She looked at him. He looked down and away from her for a brief second before returning her hard stare. “I’m sorry.”

Wren forced herself to relax. She loosened her fists and unclenched her jaw. “Just… don’t do it again. Please.”

“Got it,” said Connor. Wren looked away from him. Her stomach growled. She hugged her middle, Connor’s eyes still upon her.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

Wren puffed out an exasperated sigh. She looked at him again. “Then stop staring at me. Just because Hank told you to watch me doesn’t mean you have to literally _watch_ me.”

Connor folded his arms as he peered down at her. “What were you dreaming about?”

Wren’s breath hitched. Heat prickled up her neck. Her fingers curled around the sheets. “Did I say anything in my sleep?”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“ _Help me, I can’t escape_ ,” Connor recited.  He cocked his head. “Were you dreaming of Prometheus?”

Wren shook her head. “The car wreck. Only… it was weird. The car kept falling. And it was definitely raining that night, but it wasn’t in the dream…” She sighed. “The one thing I wish could forget about my old life…” She snorted and shook her head. “Figures. It stays with me the most.”

“Why don’t you want me to analyze you?” Connor queried.

Wren stared at him. She ran a diagnostic.

***Probability of betrayal <calculating> = 50%* **

**< Trust?> **

**< Don’t trust?>**

Wren compromised with half of the truth. “Other than the fact that it’s an invasion of privacy?” She jutted out her chin and quirked her lips. “I’m supposed to be good at hiding my weaknesses and emotions, but when you analyze me, it lays it all bare. Kind of makes everything I went through pointless.”

Connor lifted his chin. “I see.”

The door opened and Hank walked in, carrying a to-go order from Chicken Feed, Wren’s backpack slung over his shoulder. Hank set the backpack down and rifled through the plastic bag. He withdrew a carboard box and placed it on the trey in front of Wren. “Eat up. As soon as you’re done, we’re looking at your laptop and faking your death.” 

Wren looked at Connor. “I need a forceps and a curette. Maybe some surgical scissors, too. Something that can get into a small place.”

Connor’s eyes flicked to Hank, his LED circling yellow. Then, he left the room. Wren opened the cardboard box and practically moaned at the sight of the cheeseburger. She took a huge mouthful, her stomach immediately thanking her. Hank started eating his own burger, eyeing her. He wiped his mouth.

“What d’you need that stuff for?” he asked around a mouthful of burger.

Wren swallowed her second bite of cheeseburger. “For my tracker. It’s a tiny thing, lodged in some of the wiring of my left arm. There’s a specific way I have to disable it in order for it to look like a died. I can’t just crush it or anything like that. It powers off when my heart stops, but I need to make it _think_ my heart stopped.”

“Hmph,” muttered Hank.

By the time they finished eating, Connor returned, tools in hand. He set them on Wren’s trey table while Hank cleared away the food. Wren pushed the trey aside and crossed her legs. Hank took out the laptop and placed it on Wren’s lap. She opened it up and unlocked it. She held out her hand.

“Flash drive.”

Hank pulled it out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. “That was hard to find, just so ya know.”

The corners of Wren’s mouth quirked. “In an advanced world, sometimes older tech is more secure. Paper is actually the most secure, but unless you wanna copy all of these files by hand…” She shrugged.

“Yeah, no,” said Hank. He folded his arms and watched as Wren transferred the few files on her laptop to the flash drive. “You don’t have that much data on here.”

“Yeah, they cleared it after every mission,” muttered Wren. “We won’t find anything regarding their location or even aliases involved with them, but sometimes, details of the mission can reveal things.”

Wren finished transferring the files and took out the flash drive. “You might want to put the laptop on the other side of the room,” she told Hank, pulling the trey back toward her. Hank picked up the laptop and placed it gingerly on the floor on the other side of the room, the screen still facing them. Wren rested her arm on the trey. She pressed on the bottom of her left forearm, the synthetic skin peeling away to reveal the white plastic skeleton underneath. She slid open a panel in her arm, exposing the wires and circuits. Her brow pinched as she focused moved the wires around with the curette in her right hand. She bit her lip and used the forces to remove the miniscule tracker once she found it. She tugged, breaking the magnetic connection. She laid the tracker onto the trey.

Holding the tracker in place with the forceps, Wren used the curette to move aside the front panel of the device, exposing a mess of tiny wires. She picked up the surgical scissors. Hank shifted beside her. “You sure you know which wire to cut?”

“Prometheus shouldn’t have trained me so well,” Wren answered vaguely. She cut the wire and lifted her head to watch the laptop. A few seconds passed. Then, a warning flashed across the screen.

**CY001 TERMINATED. SELF-DESTRUCTION IMMINENT. SECURING FILES. DELETING DATA. 01000100 01100001 01110110 01101001 01110011.**

**< p/> Uploadingto<CONFIDENTIAL></p>**

The laptop began smoking. It sparked, and then the screen blacked out. Wren exhaled, her shoulders slumping. Her eyes pricked. She was _free_. Her eyes flicked to Connor and Hank. Well, sort of free. She wondered if she had just traded one prison for another.

“Does that mean…?” Hank trailed off, still staring at the laptop.

Wren nodded. “I’m free.” Her voice cracked, earning her a glance from Connor. His LED flashed yellow for half a second before settling into blue.

Hank cleared his throat. “So, what do you need to fabricate your background?”

“A computer,” Wren replied, lifting a brow, “and a few supplies to make a fake license and whatnot. That’ll take longer to do, which is fine. We need to let at least a week or two pass before I try to get a job at the DPD, to let things cool down. For now, we can work on the story part.”

“Story? Like what?” Hank crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“Like, my relation to you, why I’m in Detroit, etcetera.”

“Uh huh,” Hank muttered out of the corner of his mouth. He squinted at Wren. “Y’know, my ex-wife has a nephew about your age…”

“Okay, I’m his ex,” said Wren. Her mind and mental processor worked to piece together a viable story. “We were serious, but not enough to get married. I didn’t want to get married, he did, so we ended it. I’m out of touch with my biological family because…” Wren glanced toward Connor. “Because I’m supportive of the android cause and they’re not. I moved to Detroit because I have an interest in it. I came to _you_ ,” Wren turned her attention back to Hank, “because you’re the closest relative I have. We have to say we knew each other before your wife left, too.”

“Just say you’d been with Blaise for five years,” Hank grumbled. “Which means… You know about Cole.”

Wren frowned at the raggedness in Hank’s voice. “Look, you don’t have to tell me just yet. All I need to know is your ex-wife’s name and how Blaise –I’m assuming that’s his name – is related to her.”

“He’s her nephew,” answered Hank.

“I know, but how? Sister’s son? Brother’s son?” Wren raised her eyebrows at Hank.

“Sister,” said Hank. “My ex-wife’s name is Ellie. Her sister is April Lawson. And yeah, Blaise Lawson is my nephew.”

“Okay,” said Wren, nodding slowly, “I need to come up with a last name and fake family… As for the DPD, I’m not going through six months of police academy. If I say I have a degree in criminal justice and worked as a private investigator for a few years, then it cuts my time. I should only have to take the exams and shadow different officers and detectives before ‘graduating.’ So, I’ll need to make documentation for closed P.I. business, fake an academic transcript and fake an I.D. Shouldn’t be too difficult, as long as I have the resources to do this.”

Wren looked up, realizing that both Hank and Connor were staring at her, their lips parted and eyes wide. Wren would have laughed at their expressions if a blush hadn’t crept up her neck and to her cheeks. She hugged her knees to her chest.

“You’ve… You’ve done this a lot, huh?” said Hank, rubbing the back of his neck.

Wren pursed her lips and nodded. “I’ve had to create twenty-two aliases in my time with Prometheus.”

“Jesus,” huffed Hank. “Is that how many people you’ve assassinated?”

Wren shook her head. “Not all of my assignments involved killing someone. Some of my assignments were just covert operations. Actually, a lot of them were like that. I’ve only assassinated six people. I’ve killed seventeen in total.”

Hank stared at Wren, one eyebrow raised, his mouth hanging open. “Why… Why seventeen if you were only ordered to kill six?”

“Twice, I had to get rid of a bodyguard. The other nine were at Prometheus. They wanted to make sure I could fight… I’m not counting the androids,” Wren lowered her gaze and dropped her chin to her chest. Heat tingled in her face as she felt Connor’s eyes on her. Wren rubbed her face. “Can we move on from this?”

“Yeah,” said Hank, sounding ill, “let’s.”

Wren drew in a shuddering breath and looked at Connor. “Do you know where I can get resources for this?”

“Markus,” he answered.

Wren nodded, shaking slightly. “Okay. While I’m at it, I can think of ways to better protect him, starting with his security system. It was shit. We can work out more details of my background once I’m out of here. I need time to think about it.” She looked at Hank. “I need to find a cheap motel. I don’t have enough cash on me to pay for more than a week.”

“You’re staying with us,” Hank grunted.

Wren wrinkled her brow and pressed her lips together for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Well, it’s not like we can just let you roam wherever the fuck you want. We gotta keep an eye on you, day and night.” Hank’s lips twisted.

Wren looked down and away from Hank, letting her hair fall toward her face to hide it. “Right. Makes sense.”

It was stupid of her to entertain the idea, however briefly, that Hank offered his home to her out of kindness rather than obligation. Of course Hank didn’t trust her. She didn’t trust him or Connor, either. In fact, she didn’t seem to have freedom with them, as they would watch her every move from now on. Her heart shriveled in her chest. Which was worse: imprisonment with Prometheus, where they were at least somewhat honest about the it, or with Hank and Connor, where she lived under the pretense that she was finally free, only to live under different watching eyes?

“Alright, I’ll go see the doctor about when you’re clear to leave. When we get to the house, we’ll work out the kinks of your background and lay down some ground rules. Got it?” Hank moved to the door. He stared at Wren, gripping the door handle as he waited for her confirmation.

“Got it,” Wren replied. She bit her lip as Hank pulled open the door. “Hey,” she called. Hank stopped and turned, lifting an eyebrow at her. Wren looked at her hands. “You guys can monitor me while I make the background to make sure it’s how you want it, but let me actually do it. If this ever comes out… Let me take the fall for it, okay?”

She glanced up. Hank’s eyebrows pulled together and he poked his cheek with his tongue. His eyes flicked to Connor. Wren couldn’t see the android’s expression, but based off of Hank’s nod, she gathered that Connor must’ve reflected Hank’s feelings about her statement. Hank left the room without another word. Wren looked to Connor, who glanced at her with narrowed eyes and a tilted head. He wasn’t analyzing her, as his eyes didn’t appear distant. He observed her with his perceptions, not one of technological advancements. Wren held his gaze.

“You said you didn’t count the androids,” Connor murmured. “What did you mean by that?”

Wren tensed. “I was only counting the humans I’ve killed… But I’ve killed a lot of androids, too. They… Prometheus didn’t count them as alive… They’d use them to help me train. Or target practice. I…” She looked up at Connor, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Connor looked away from her, his brow knitting. He paced away, folding his arms across his chest. “Did you think they were alive?”

“I… I don’t know,” Wren replied. “I tried not to think about it too much.”

Connor turned. “What do you think now?”

“I think they were,” Wren whispered. “Which means I’ve killed thirty-seven people, not seventeen.”

Connor’s lips parted. He looked away from her. Wren’s chest tightened as she watched Connor’s LED circle yellow. His gaze darted around until he slowly lifted his eyes to meet Wren’s. “You regret it.”

It wasn’t a question, yet Wren still felt the need to explain. She needed him to understand that she hadn’t wanted to be Prometheus’s weapon. “Of course I regret it. I… They _controlled_ me in every way you can control a person. I was barely alive. I did things for them that haunt me. Human and android alike, the lives I took…” She inhaled sharply, realizing she had overindulged. Her programming no longer sent an electrical shock through her when she was not adhering to her training. She was a deviant now, and in control of herself. She had been too honest. She felt torn. Part of her wanted Connor to trust her and to trust Connor. The other part didn’t want to share anything with him or Hank. A third Prometheus part of her said they were the enemy and were keeping her from her mission. Wren shoved that part of her away.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Connor stared at her, awaiting her response.

“Uh, I guess,” said Wren, pulling her knees to her chest.

Connor looked away from her. She watched as he pressed his lips together, his brow twitching. He looked up. “When you were asleep, you said my name. Why?”

Wren’s mouth dried. Her face tingled. “Uh… You were in my dream.”

Connor tilted his head. “I was?”

“You were in the car with me,” said Wren, rubbing her shins. “You were the one who told me I can’t escape.”

Connor’s eyebrows lifted slightly. His gaze darted and his LED flashed yellow. He met Wren’s eyes when his LED settled into blue. “Do you feel trapped by Hank and me?”

Wren’s breath hitched. “Maybe a little.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to reply, but Hank’s entrance into the room silenced him.

“Doc says you’re good to go, you just need to come back in a few days to get the stitches removed. Put on some clothes. Connor, call Markus and tell him what we need.” Hank stepped back out of the room. A nurse entered and removed Wren’s IV. Connor stepped out. They left the door open and stood with their backs to Wren to give her privacy. She slipped on some clothes, careful not to stretch the wound in side. Hank’s bullet had merely grazed her, though it still hurt like a bitch. She put on her shoes and stuck her destroyed laptop into the backpack. She slung it over her shoulder and stepped into the hall.

Connor dipped his head. “Markus says he will set up a room for us to work in tomorrow.”

“Great,” muttered Hank. “Gives me time to come up with an excuse to Jeffrey. Connor, you’ll go with Wren tomorrow. I’ll talk to Fowler and do the paperwork on Wren’s… er, death.”

Connor’s brow puckered. “There’s no reason for me to miss work, Hank. You can call in sick, but androids don’t –”

“I know,” said Hank, “but I can’t keep up with Wren if she decides to run. You can. So take a personal day and go with her tomorrow.”

“You know, I’m right here,” muttered Wren.

Hank looked back at her as they trekked down the hall. “Yeah, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that we don’t trust you.”

Wren huffed. “Well, I don’t trust either of you, either.”

“I don’t care,” said Hank. They left the hospital and wandered the parking garage until they reached Hank’s car. Wren slid into the backseat while Connor took the front. Hank clambered into the driver’s side and cranked the engine. Wren jerked when heavy metal blared through the speakers. Then, she turned to the window, listening to the music as Hank drove to his house.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

After a few hours, Wren finally had a fabricated background story. Tomorrow, she would actualize the background with documentation. A false paper trail would take pretty much the whole day to authenticate, especially if she wanted to fool the DPD. Wren sat on the couch and glanced around the room. Hank’s St. Bernard (Sumo, as Connor had called him) rested his head on Wren’s lap. She scratched behind his ears, a smile toying with her lips. She didn’t have much experience with dogs, but she liked the idea of them.

Hank stood in front of her, his hands on his hips. “Alright, so we got your story all settled. Time to lay down some ground rules.”

Wren ceased her petting of Sumo and peered up at Hank. Connor sat in an armchair in the corner of the room. Wren looked up at Hank expectedly. “Let me guess –no boys over after ten o’clock?”

“Shut up,” snapped Hank. Wren leaned back into the couch cushions. She folded her arms across her chest. Hank scowled at her. “If we ask you a question, you answer it honestly. If I wanna know the names of who you’ve killed, you spill them, if you remember. Got it?”

“If I know the answers to your questions, I will answer them honestly.”

“Good. Second, the DPD will eventually give you a gun. You are not allowed anywhere near it while you’re here. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“No showing off of your android bits. We’re passing you off as human.”

“Okay.”

“No talking about your case with anyone around.”

“Do I look like an idiot?”

Hank chose to ignore Wren’s snark. “You are not allowed to go anywhere without either Connor or me present with you. Understand?”

Wren huffed. “ _Yes_.”

“And just so we’re clear, if you ever do anything to make us think you’re going to betray us or get us or Markus killed, we will kill you. Got it?” Hank glowered at her.

“I understand.”

“Good,” said Hank. He turned to Connor. “I’m gonna pick up some dinner. I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

“Alright,” said Connor. Hank shot a scowl at Wren, whose lips quirked.

“Since I’m posing as your ex-niece, can I call you Uncle Hank?” she called after him as he headed for the front door.

“No,” stated Hank. He walked out of the house, locking the door behind him.

Wren turned to Connor. “How do you think he’d feel about ‘mom?’”

Connor tilted his head. “I think it would be more appropriate to call him ‘dad,’ since he doesn’t possess the correct organ to be referred to as ‘mom.’”

“It was a joke.”

“I know. I was joking, too,” replied Connor, his lips twisting. “I would advise against calling Hank any of those endearments.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem the endearing type.”

“I believe he reserves such affection for those he feels connected with, and you don’t fall into that category.”

“But you do.”

“Yes.”

Wren leaned forward. “How’d the two of you meet?”

Connor balanced his elbows on his knees. “I was sent by CyberLife to work with Hank to hunt deviants.”

“You were sent to hunt deviants? And became deviant?” Wren queried, her eyebrows lifting.

“Correct.”

“What was that like?” Wren pressed.

Connor looked away, his brow creasing. “It was…” Wren watched as the LED on Connor’s temple cycle yellow. She almost told him to forget it, but her curiosity got the better of her. Connor’s eyes snapped to hers suddenly. “It was, and still is, an experience I’m still trying to define.”

Wren smiled slightly. “I’d love to hear more about it one day.”

One corner of Connor’s mouth twitched upward. “Of course.”

A notification flashed in the corner of Wren’s eye.

**Connor ^ Neutral**


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: anxiety, talk of sexual manipulation, implied torture (? It's never said outright, but you get the idea).

Connor watched Hank and Wren sit at the table and eat the takeout meal. Connor made a mental note to grocery shop when an opportunity presented itself. He left the kitchen and trekked to Sumo lying on the living room floor. He sat beside the enormous dog and ran his hand over Sumo’s fur.

“So,” said Hank, crumpling up the paper to his sandwich, “how old are ya?”

“Thirty-five,” said Wren. Connor’s brow puckered and he looked over his shoulder at her. She did not look thirty-five. Hank choked on his drink. He coughed for a few seconds before recovering himself.

“Bull-fuckin’-shit. No way you’re thirty-five. You look like you’re barely over twenty-five.”

“They injected my skin with synthesizers. I age nearly three times as slow as the average person. I suppose you could say I’m twenty-seven, then.”

“Yeah, that looks about right,” said Hank. He wiped his mouth. Connor left Sumo and returned to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. He stared at Wren for several seconds. “You said you killed some decent people. Who were they? Why would Prometheus kill decent people if their goal is to protect humanity or whatever the fuck you said?”

“Jesus,” Wren muttered, looking away. She gathered up the trash from the meal and tossed it into the trashcan, keeping her back to them.

“Remember the rules,” Hank warned.

“Yeah, I know,” Wren snapped, turning. “I’m trying to come up with an answer that won’t make you look at me like I’m a piece of shit, okay?”

Hank exchanged a glance with Connor. Neither of them commented. They waited for Wren to explain herself. She huffed and turned, her arms curling around her middle.

“We all have our sins. That doesn’t necessarily make us bad people.”

“Cut the cryptic bullshit and answer the fucking question.”

Wren hugged herself tighter.

**^^Stress Levels: 37%**

“Look, the people I assassinated were doing really bad things. Things that would get a lot of people hurt or killed. But some of them had motives that made it a grey area, okay?”

“Give me an example,” Hank leaned back in his chair as he looked up at Wren.

Her eyes flicked to Connor for a moment, the space between her eyebrows creasing.

**^Stress Levels: 38%**

Wren looked back at Hank. “There was a chemist involved with a Red Ice dealer. This guy wasn’t just your local drug dealer, though. He was poisoning the drugs and killing people. I killed the chemist to stop him from selling the poison to the dealer.”

“Well, that sounds like he was a bad guy,” drawled Hank.

“He had a son,” Wren replied, her voice cracking. “He was really sick. The chemist –Dr. Hadron Rhodes –couldn’t afford the treatments for his son. He was depressed, addicted to the drug and trying to help his son. He created the poison and sold it to the Red Ice dealer to pay for his drugs and the treatments for his son. His actions got a lot of people hurt and others killed. I was sent to dispose of him.”

“What happened to the kid?” asked Hank quietly.

“I don’t know,” Wren whispered.

“Why didn’t they send you after the Red Ice dealer?” Connor queried, furrowing his brow.

Wren shrugged, her eyes glistening. “Prometheus wanted to watch them, see if they could find who the higher-ups were and who was buying from the dealer. I think they sent someone else after them, because I never heard of the dealer again.”

“Why didn’t Prometheus just pay for the kid’s treatments?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know,” Wren sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I wasn’t in charge there. They just gave me my job and took me there. The point is, Dr. Rhodes loved his son. And my actions took a little boy’s father from him.” Tears escaped her eyes and slid down her cheeks. The corners of Connor’s mouth pulled taut.

“Do you remember all of their names? Your victims?” said Hank.

**^^Stress Levels: 47%**

“Of _course_ I remember their names,” Wren breathed.

Hank was quiet for several seconds. Then, he dipped his head. “Okay. Just don’t kill me in my sleep.” He got up from his chair and hobbled to the bathroom. Connor tilted his head, his audio input picking up on the lock clicking to the door. The water from the shower started, signaling the beginning of Hank’s nightly routine.

Connor turned toward Wren. She was trembling slightly. Her eyes lifted to meet his. He frowned. “Are you alright?”

Wren wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I will be.”

She pushed past him and ventured to the couch, where she sat down, watching Sumo. Connor followed her and took a seat in the armchair. Connor watched her before realizing that he was making her uncomfortable, so he looked away. Wren pushed off from the couch and walked over to the stereo. She sifted through the albums on the shelf. On the next shelf were books. Wren ran her fingers over the spines. Connor watched her, his brow puckering.

“I didn’t take Hank as a Dante fan,” said Wren. “Paperback, too. Most people like digital copies of their books.”

“He says he likes the physical copy better,” replied Connor.

“Self-help books,” muttered Wren. She sounded as though she were talking to herself. She peered over her shoulder, catching Connor’s eyes with hers. “Is Hank mourning someone?”

Connor shifted, his body tensing. He remembered how reluctant Hank had been to tell Connor about Cole, and again how Hank had stalled at the hospital. Wren would need to know eventually, just in case anyone ever asked and she needed to protect her cover, but Connor was loath to divulge something so personal of Hank’s. He looked away from Wren. “He is.”

“Is it Cole?” Wren queried.

Connor leveled his gaze with hers. “Yes.”

“Who was Cole?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not my information to give,” said Connor.

Wren lifted her chin. Then, she nodded. “Fair enough.”

She returned her attention to the books. Connor stood and joined her at the shelf. Wren drifted her index finger over the spines as she read their titles. Her finger paused over an anthology of Sylvia Plath’s works.

Connor glanced at her, his eyebrows squishing together. Wren seemed to have frozen as she gaped at the Sylvia Plath anthology. Connor tilted his head as he peered at Wren. “Wren? Are you alright?”

Wren flinched as if Connor had slapped her. She looked at him, her eyes wide. The color drained from her face. “I… I think… I don’t know.” Her hand dropped to her side. She straightened and backed away from the shelf.

Connor stared at her. “What is it?”

Tears jiggled in Wren’s eyes. Her lips parted and she tore her eyes away from the shelf to look at Connor. “I think I just remembered something.”

Connor widened his eyes a fraction. He glanced at the book before looking back to Wren. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Wren breathed, “but… It was… I don’t know how to explain it. It was so fast. And it doesn’t make much sense, but… That book _means_ something to me. That’s all I can remember. I just saw it on a bookshelf in my mind.”

Connor folded his arms. “Have you remembered things before?”

“I-I have no idea,” said Wren, collapsing on the couch. “Not that I know of.”

The bathroom door opened, and Hank exited the bathroom in a billow of steam. His hair hung about his face in damp, grey strands. He opened up the hall closet and rummaged around it for a few seconds. He padded down the hall, a pillow tucked under one arm and blankets balanced in the other. He rounded the couch and tossed the pillow to Wren, who caught it deftly. Hank dropped the blankets on the couch.

He turned to Connor. “Since you don’t sleep, I’m assuming you don’t mind if she takes the couch.”

“Not at all.”

“What do you do all night if you don’t sleep?” Wren asked.

“A number of things,” Connor replied, his eyebrows lifting. “I won’t bother you.”

“Okay…” Wren’s gaze slid to Hank’s. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Knock yourself out,” Hank muttered. Wren stood and slipped past Hank and Connor. She closed herself in the bathroom. After a moment, the water started running.

Connor frowned at Hank, who stared down the hall with a bemused expression. Connor clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head. “Hank? Are you alright?”

“What the fuck are we gonna do with her?” Hank muttered, tearing his eyes away from the bathroom door to look at Connor.

Connor was glad for the rhetorical nature of the question, as he found himself unable to answer it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor spent most nights reading, as there was not much else for him to do. Sometimes he scoured the Internet, or even stared into space. He was a very patient person, and the nights alone allowed for Connor to reflect on himself. This night, however, his routine was interrupted by Wren.

She began curled on the couch, tucked underneath a blanket. At first, she was quiet. Connor looked up from his book –the Sylvia Plath anthology –to check on her occasionally. Her brow twitched in her sleep and a frown creased the lines around her mouth. Connor tilted his head as he watched her. Her sleep did not seem peaceful.

He returned to the book. CyberLife equipped androids with the capability to discuss abstract concepts like philosophy in order to better integrate with humans. However, deviancy stuttered this ability a bit. Connor could look at art and discuss it, even philosophize about it. However, without his program instructing him on how best to analyze a work of art, he found himself a bit stumped by Sylvia Plath’s poetry. Independent thought and opinion complicated his program’s ability to analyze the poem.

A whimper from Wren interrupted Connor’s thoughts. He glanced up, eyebrows gathering. Wren turned her head from side to side and shifted in her sleep. Connor tilted his head. She was behaving much like she had at the hospital, when she’d had a nightmare. He marked his place in the book and set it down, opting for watching Wren, should he need to wake her.

A chill rippled down his back as Wren muttered, “Please… don’t…”

And then she _screamed_.

Connor jumped to his feet and rushed to the couch. He grabbed Wren’s shoulders and shook her gently. “Wren, wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

Wren thrashed, still screaming. Hank’s bedroom door open and the man himself burst into the hall. “What in the _hell_?”

Connor glanced over his shoulder. “I believe she’s having a night terror. I can’t wake her.”

“Shake her harder!” Hank barked.

Connor pursed his lips and complied. “Wren, it’s me, Connor! Wake up!”

Wren’s eyes flashed open. The screaming stopped, but she continued to struggle against Connor’s grip. “Let me go! Let me go!”

Connor released her, but held his hands out, palms forward. He knelt by the couch. “Are you alright?”

“What the hell were you screaming for? I nearly shit the bed!” Hank yelled.

Wren’s brow furrowed. “I… I was screaming?”

Connor frowned. “You don’t remember?”

Wren shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “It must’ve been one of my night terrors. Prometheus would medicate me if I had too many in a row.”

“I’ve never heard someone scream in their sleep like that,” Hank muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” Wren croaked. “I once screamed myself hoarse. I don’t realize I’ve done it until the next morning, or unless someone tells me I did.”

Connor sat back on his heels. He looked at Hank, who looked just as shocked as Connor felt. Hank cleared his throat. “Is there… uh, anything we can do?”

Wren looked at Connor. “You don’t have to wake me. Usually, I’ll sleep through the worst of it.”

Connor’s brow puckered. “Aren’t you… You seem so terrified, though. Are you sure you don’t want me to wake you?”

“And what about waking _me_?” Hank demanded.

Wren looked at her hands. “I… Sometimes waking me makes it worse. I’ll be disoriented and can end up panicking. You can wake me if you notice I’m having a nightmare. But if it escalates, let me sleep through it. And… I’m sorry if I wake you, Hank. I’m sorry I _did_ wake you.”

Hank waved a hand. “Whatever… ‘M a light sleeper…” He padded out of the room, rubbing the back of his neck and muttering.

Connor watched him go before turning to Wren. He realized he was sitting very close to her. She shrank away from him. He pushed away from the couch and moved back toward his armchair. Wren pulled her knees up to her chest. Connor sat down, still staring at Wren. She avoided his gaze, staring straight ahead. Her eyes were wide, glinting in the darkness.

“You should get some rest.”

“I can’t.”

Connor frowned. He tilted his head. “Do you remember what your dream was about?”

“Uh, sort of.”

“Perhaps talking about it will help. I’m aware that discussing things like this helps alleviate anxiety,” said Connor, lifting his eyebrows in earnest. Wren’s eyes snapped to him. They caught the streetlamp light, which peeked through the curtains in the window behind Connor.

“Look,” Wren quipped, “I appreciate what you and Hank have done for me, but I’m not an idiot. You don’t trust me, and I don’t trust you. We’re just working together. I know where the three of us stand. So, there’s no need to act like you’re my friend and that you care about what’s going on with me.”

Connor opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words. He swallowed. “I’m… I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“I get the feeling the three of us are going to be uncomfortable a lot, at least for a while,” huffed Wren. She laid back down and pulled the blanket around her.

“That’s highly probable,” Connor murmured. Wren remained silent. After several minutes, Connor initiated a scan.

**< scan> [Status: Asleep] **

He leaned back into his chair. He considered entering standby mode. A spike of anxiety shot through him at the thought. His hands curled around the arms of the chair. He had avoided standby mode since the liberation. Thoughts of Amanda flickered in his processor. He clenched his jaw and pressure built behind his eyes. He had exited the program. Logically, Amanda couldn’t get to him. He was _free_. So why was he still afraid of her?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor and Wren spent their morning at the new Jericho building, shut in a room with an advanced computer. Markus acquired the means to create Wren’s fake license, with the information she provided. While he was off seeing to that, Wren fabricated her academic transcript. She hacked into the University of Michigan’s database to record herself as an alumnus. She even documented herself as an alumnus from Greenwich High School in Sterling Heights, Michigan. It was quite fascinating to watch her work, her fingers flying across the computer keys, her lips scrunched to one side and her brow furrowing. She had tied her hair back, though chunks of it fell in her face.

Connor jerked when he felt vibration in his pocket. He had forgotten about Hank’s phone. He withdrew it, narrowing his eyes at the number.

**< scan> #313-373-4265= [Incoming call from Hank Anderson, DPD] **

Connor answered it. “Hello, Hank.”

“Are you almost done?” Hank muttered. His voice came through muffled and rippling with static, as if he were holding the mouthpiece of the phone in his mouth.

“I believe so,” said Connor. “She’s looking at Markus’s security system now to see how she can improve it.”

“Good,” huffed Hank, “I just realized something. She can’t go around wearing the same clothes every day. And she probably has... certain _toiletries_ that she needs. Take her shopping. Use her cash.”

Connor nodded. “Got it.”

“See you tonight, kid.”

“Of course.” Connor hung up the phone. Wren twirled in her chair to look at him.

“Get Markus in here. I’ve gotta tell him things about his security.”

Connor stared at her for a second before turning away. He poked his head out of the room. Josh stood nearby, speaking with an AX400. Josh caught Connor’s eye, bid farewell to the other android and then walked over.

“Hey,” said Josh, smiling. “How’s it going?”

“My… colleague needs to speak with Markus,” said Connor, resisting the urge to cringe at his wording.

“Okay, I’ll grab him,” said Josh. He left the hall for several seconds. Markus rounded the corner alone. Markus and Connor stepped into the room.

“Wren,” Markus greeted, “what can I do for you?”

“Well, firstly, you need to install a security system. More than just an alarm at the front door. Yours can be hacked by practically any android. I’ve secured your firewalls to your data, though. Your documents are safe, but Prometheus won’t go after your documents. Unless they send someone to seduce you and plant some sort of ‘evidence’ on you, but since the original order was to terminate you, I doubt they’ll do that.” Wren twirled a pencil in her hands.

The corners of Connor’s mouth twitched. He looked at Markus, who quirked a brow at him. They turned back to Wren. Markus folded his arms. “Alright, so what kind security would you suggest?”

Wren tilted her head. “Mmm… Cameras, sensors on the door to your office and major entrances… I might put something in the air vents, too. And you might want to invest in curtains. You have a lot of windows. Makes you an easy target for a sniper. When you get the security system set up, I’ll make some adjustments to it. I know Prometheus’s usual tricks, so I’ll help you guard against them. Speaking of guards, you might want to hire some.”

Markus shook his head. “I’m not doing that.”

Wren sighed. “Fair enough. We don’t know how long we’ll be waiting for Prometheus. They could strike in a few months. They could wait a year. I would say to use security detail at any major political events that you attend.”

Markus dipped his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Wren pushed up from her seat. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” said Markus, regarding her warmly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

A shadow passed over Wren’s features. “Me too.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After dropping off Wren’s fake documentation and picking up the cash in her backpack, Connor took Wren to a shopping center. He followed her around as she picked out some clothes and some toiletries. She seemed frugal, of which Connor made a mental note. He looked at the clothes in her shopping basket. She was a fan of sweaters and jeans. She had picked out a dressier top, too, but it was the only one. They returned to the car to load it with the shopping bags.

**< scan> [Increased Levels of NPY]**

“Would you like to get something to eat?” Connor queried.

Wren looked at him as she closed the trunk. “You don’t eat.”

“No, but you do, and you haven’t eaten all day.”

Wren’s nose wrinkled. “You’re just gonna watch me eat?”

Connor’s lips twitched. “I won’t watch you, if it bothers you.”

Wren shrugged. “Okay.”

They walked back to the shopping center. Wren picked a sandwich shop called _Sugar Bacon_. They were seated immediately, as it was not a busy place. Connor looked around at the décor. It boasted French delicacy, with white and blue wallpaper. The tables were painted white, though they looked as if they had been worn –Connor assumed on purpose. The hardwood floor was light wood, adding to the brightness in the building. It was definitely more artistic than the places Connor frequented. He enjoyed seeing different styles of interior decorating and architecture.

“What are you looking at?” Wren asked, drawing Connor from his thoughts.

He offered her a pleasant smile. “The décor.”

Wren lifted a brow. “Are you interested in interior design?”

Connor tilted his head. “Not necessarily. I enjoy observing it, as I don’t often see different styles. The police station sticks to a modern style, focused on efficiency. Hank isn’t much of a decorator.”

Wren snorted. Connor’s lips twitched, seeing Wren smile. He had not seen her smile before. Even now, her smile was soft and brief. The waitress brought Wren’s meal to her.

**< scan> [Tomato soup]**

**< scan> [Total Carbohydrate: 18g] + [Total Fat: .5g] + [Calories: 160] **

Connor relaxed, folding his hands on the table. Wren possessed healthier habits than Hank, at least. Wren paused, her spoon hovering in front of her lips.

“I thought you weren’t going to watch me eat?”

Connor blinked and met her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Wren took a bite, avoiding his gaze. Connor looked away from her, too. He looked around the room before flicking his gaze back to Wren, who ate quietly.

He tilted his head. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Wren looked up, her lips twisting downward. “Is this a one-of-Hank’s-rules question or a Connor question?”

Connor’s lips twitched. “One of mine.”

“Okay.”

Connor squished his brows together. “You don’t remember anything from your life before Prometheus?”

**^Stress Levels: 13%**

“Not really,” Wren sighed, leaning back. “I get flashes of things sometimes, like when I came across that Sylvia Plath book. Occasionally I’ll hear a string of words or smell a specific odor or taste something that gives me déjà vu. Mostly, it feels like I should be remembering something, but it’s fuzzy. It’s like… Like something’s constantly on the tip of my tongue, but I can never get the right word. Does that answer your question?”

“It does, thank you,” said Connor. “What do you remember? Even if it’s just a flash of an image?”

“I remember…” Wren trailed off, her gaze growing distant. “Stage lights. A forest… a yellow raincoat. Random things like that.”

Connor flexed his jaw. Wren resumed eating. The silence between them didn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as it had been the past few days. Connor pushed a breath through his nostrils. Wren finished eating after a few minutes. Wren prepaid, so they left soon after the waitress cleared the table. They walked through the shopping center, Wren’s gaze on her shoes. They passed a store to the right. Red, pink and white hearts decorated the store windows. It advertised Valentine’s Day décor for twenty percent off.

“What is that?” Connor queried, his steps faltering.

Wren glanced toward the store. “What is what?”

“Valentine’s Day,” said Connor, his brow furrowing.

“You don’t know what Valentine’s Day is?” Wren sounded incredulous.

Connor looked at her. “I know it’s a holiday celebrated every February the fourteenth. However, I don’t know the deeper reasoning behind it.”

Wren snorted. She folded her arms and resumed walking Connor fell in step with her, waiting for her response. “It doesn’t really have much of a deeper reasoning behind it anymore. It’s just a day for couples to buy each other gifts and go on dates. It kind of becomes a competition of who has the better significant other based off the gifts people receive.”

Connor frowned. “Anymore?”

“What?”

“You said it doesn’t have much of deeper reasoning anymore. Did it used to?”

Wren sighed. “I mean, I guess. It’s supposed to be a day where you celebrate your loved ones. Mostly romantic partners, but sometimes family and friends celebrate it together.”

“You seem to be bitter towards this holiday,” pointed out Connor.

Wren shrugged. “I’m not bitter. I just don’t have a reason to celebrate it.”

Connor’s brow knitted. They fell silent once more and returned to the car. The drive home was quiet, with Wren gazing out of the window while Connor drove. They stopped by the police station to pick up Hank. Connor drove them home. Wren carried in her bags and unpacked the toiletries in the bathroom. The rest of the shopping bags sat in the living room. Hank muttered under his breath and rummaged around in the back room, looking for a basket. He retuned and placed it beside the couch. Connor worked on placing Wren’s clothes into the basket, keeping them in piles of bottoms, tops and undergarments.

Hank sat down on the couch. “Tomorrow, I’ll take a sick day and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. You go to work.”

Connor stilled, halfway through folding a pair of Wren’s jeans. Then, he nodded. “Okay.”

“It makes more sense for me to take off than you,” explained Hank.

Connor’s forehead creased and the corners of his mouth dropped. “Will you be alright with her alone?”

“I’m not fuckin’ useless,” said Hank.

Connor pressed his lips together for a moment. “She is trained, Hank.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I think I’ll be okay. She didn’t try anything today?”

“No,” said Connor, straightening, his task completed. He grabbed the shopping bags and brought them to the trashcan. When he returned to the living room, Wren sat on the other end of the couch.

“What do you want for dinner? I don’t have much food here. I can go pick something up,” said Hank.

Wren shrugged. “I’m not picky.”

“Good,” said Hank, standing. He looked at Connor. “Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.” He patted Connor’s shoulder and left the house.

Wren gripped her knees, her posture stiff. “You didn’t have to… fold my clothes.”

Connor glanced at the organized basket, Wren’s clothes folded neatly in their respective piles. “It gave me something to do.”

Wren rubbed her shins. “Well, um… Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Wren stood. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Connor dipped his head. Wren returned the gesture. She hurried to the bathroom after grabbing a change of clothes. Connor listened for the water. It started after a minute. Connor walked over to the bookshelf. His shoulders slumped with the realization that he’d read everything already. He moved over to the stereo and thumbed through the albums. He picked a jazz selection and played it. He sat on the couch, his eyes closed. He could see the sheet music for the piece, watching as the music hit the notes. Its tempo was faster paced, resulting in an upbeat tune. The corners of Connor’s mouth quirked upward.

The shower stopped and Connor’s eyes slid open. Wren emerged in sweatpants and a plain T-shirt. She paused by the stereo, reading over the album. She looked over her shoulder at Connor. “You like jazz?”

“Hank does,” said Connor. “I’m afraid I haven’t developed my own personal taste in music just yet.”

“Well, do you like what’s playing?”

“It’s pleasant.”

Wren nodded slowly. She set down the album and thumbed through the others. “Heavy metal and jazz,” she murmured. She sounded amused. She looked at Connor. “Maybe you should ask Hank to get other genres for you to listen to.”

Connor cocked his head. “I don’t listen to music often enough for me to ask that.”

Wren shrugged. She moved from the music to the bookshelf. She sat cross-legged on the floor, skimming through the different titles. She paused at the Sylvia Plath anthology again, but did not remove it from the shelf. Connor watched as Wren pulled _The Iliad_ from the shelf. She opened it and began to read.

“Do you like music?” Connor queried, unable to stop himself.

Wren looked up. “Yeah. I don’t listen to it as often as I’d like. Prometheus didn’t exactly have music playing for my comfort.”

“Do you have a favorite genre?”

Wren chewed on her cheek. “I’m not sure. I like music I can dance to, but I like soft music, too. Really, I just like that music has its own language. Every song communicates something different. It depends on what I want to hear.”

A soft smile touched Connor’s lips. “What is this song communicating to you?”

Wren perked up. She tilted her head, listening for a moment. “Energy. It’s carefree. I can see people dancing to it.”

Before Connor formulated a response, the door opened and Hank walked in. He looked around, his eyebrows raised. “Good choice,” he grunted. He brought the Chicken Feed order into the kitchen. Connor stood and lowered the volume, but left the jazz playing while Hank and Wren sat down to eat. Connor stooped and picked up _The Iliad_ and placed it on Wren’s pillow.

He joined Hank and Wren at the kitchen table, sitting down, not even bothering to scan and analyze the unhealthiness of the Chicken Feed meal. Hank took a few bites of his burger before asking, “So. You were with Prometheus for ten years?”  

“Yes,” said Wren slowly. Her eyes narrowed.

“And you only assassinated six people? That’s not even one assassination per year. I’d’ve thought there’d be a higher body count.”

Wren set down her cheeseburger. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and folded her arms over her middle. “Well, they had to train me first. And not every mission I went on was an assassination.”

“Well, what else did ya do?” Hank demanded.

Wren turned her head away from them.

**˄Stress Levels: 46%**

“Are you sure you want to talk about this while eating?” She faced Hank again, who stared her down.

“I’ve got a strong stomach.”

Connor lifted a brow. He refrained from arguing with Hank, who had proven in the past they he did _not_ have a strong stomach. Jazz filled the silence for several seconds. The upbeat tune juxtaposed the tension.

“Prometheus trained me to fight, to kill. They trained me in stealth. They trained me to _manipulate_. You don’t always need to pull a trigger to destroy someone,” Wren said.

Coldness struck Connor’s core. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He looked at Hank, whose pale features reflected Connor’s feelings. Hank narrowed his eyes at Wren. “What did they have you do?”

Wren’s cheeks reddened. She tightened her crossed arms and shrank away from Hank and Connor. “I didn’t kill them, okay?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Hank barked. “Remember my rules.”

Wren looked toward the ceiling. “They trained me to manipulate. Emotionally, mentally, sexually. They put me through _whore_ school, and used me to seduce people in power. You’d be shocked at how many of your senators use prostitutes. All it took was a night, maybe more, and some pictures. Prometheus used it to blackmail them. Sometimes I used sex to get secrets. It’s that phenomenon of divulging secrets to a taxi driver –you never think a stranger will use the information against you. Some people are just weak for pillow talk. Others require more coaxing. The point is that my body wasn’t mine. It was always Prometheus’s.” Her voice broke. Connor’s brow pinched. Wren stared straight at Hank, but Connor noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“Jesus,” Hank muttered rubbing his face. He dropped his hands onto the table, eyeing Wren.

She pursed her lips together and leaned forward. “I told you I probably shouldn’t talk about it at dinner.” Her tone was cold.

Hank bowed his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked up, leveling his gaze with Wren’s. “How did they get you to do things like that? How did they command you? How do you get the point where you just _obey_?”

Wren flinched as if Hank slapped her. Her hands trembled. Connor watched as she wrapped her fingers over each other in an attempt to calm the shaking. It didn’t work. Connor’s eyes trailed up to Wren’s face. The back of his throat ached and his chest clenched. He parted his lips to tell Hank that maybe they shouldn’t push Wren past her limit, but Wren spoke before Connor could.

“I told you that I’d be honest with you,” she muttered, “but some things I’m not ready to talk about. All you need to know is that they conditioned me and programmed me to do what they wanted. Got it?”

“Okay,” Hank conceded. He sucked his teeth for a moment. “Tomorrow, we’ll go over some things you need to know about my ex’s family to seem realistic.”

“Okay,” Wren replied.

Hank stood, cleared his trash and went into the bathroom to start his nightly routine. Connor looked at Wren, who avoided his gaze. She took a bite of her cheeseburger, grimaced and then set the burger down. She cleared her trash and headed to the couch. Connor remained seated, still processing what Wren told them. Eventually, he pushed himself out of the chair and walked into the living room. Wren curled against her pillow, reading _The Iliad_.  

Connor shut off the stereo. The house seemed eerie without the upbeat jazz filling it. Connor trekked to his armchair and sat down. He wondered if he judged Wren for her actions. He remembered how his programming had dictated him, but he had managed to still make decisions against it. He shuddered to think what his programming would have forced him to do had he not possessed empathy. He stole a glance at Wren. She possessed empathy, too. She regretted her actions. Grieved over them, even.

**< scan> Stress Levels: 53% **

“Quit,” scolded Wren, barely looking up from her book.

Connor stiffened. He had not expected Wren to notice his scanning of her. “How did you know?”

“Your body language.”

Connor frowned. “You can tell that I’m scanning you through my body language?”

“Yeah,” huffed Wren, looking up. “You freeze and get this glazed-over look in your eyes. You’re not exactly subtle.”

Connor looked away. “Oh.”

Wren resumed reading until long after Hank had finished showering and gone to bed. Connor entertained himself with his coin, rolling it over his knuckles and passing it from hand to hand. He noticed Wren glancing at him from time to time. He wondered if perhaps his coin tricks bothered her, but she never complained. Eventually, she fell asleep, book still propped open, her hand resting on it. Connor’s lips twitched. He stood and walked over to the couch, where he tugged the book out from under Wren. He marked the page and laid it on the coffee table and then switched off the lamp. He returned to his seat.

It was stupid of him to fear standby mode. Androids did not dream, and he was free. If he went into standby, he knew he would see nothing. Amanda could no longer reach him. Yet he could not shake the feeling that if surrendered to standby, he would wake up in the Zen Garden, surrounded by roses. He would wake up in the Zen Garden, and Amanda would take his body. He would have no control, he would be trapped in the roses forever. His chest tightened, and his thirium pump regulator felt as if it were being crushed.

**[Warning: Core Temperature Rising]**

Connor shook his head as if to jerk the message from his vision. He gripped the arms of his chair, blinking spastically.

“You okay?” Wren croaked, lifting her head.

Connor’s eyes snapped to hers. He stiffened, every synthetic muscle engaged, giving him that eerie android rigidness that unnerved many people. “I’m okay.”

Wren pushed herself up, her eyes glinting. “You look like you’re having an aneurism.”

“I’m fine,” Connor gritted out.

“Your LED is red,” Wren stated. “You’re not fine.” She stood and knelt in front of him. “Are you… Are you having an anxiety attack?”

Connor’s processor downloaded the definition and checked symptoms of such a condition. He nodded once.

“Okay,” Wren murmured, “breathe.”

“I don’t need to breathe.”

“I know that, but it helps,” Wren placed her hands over his. “In and out. Mimic me.”

Connor listened to her breathe in slowly. He followed suit, filling his artificial lungs with oxygen. Wren exhaled out of her mouth. Connor copied her. They resumed this for several seconds.

“Focus on something else in the room,” Wren instructed, “and count backwards from ten.”

**Ten.**

_The Iliad_ –Connor had read it. He wondered if Wren enjoyed it so far. Perhaps he could discuss it with her.

**Nine.**

Sumo slumbered in the corner. _I like dogs._

**Eight.**

The stereo’s power button glowed blue in the darkness. It reminded Connor of his LED.

**Seven.**

The TV –he and Hank used to watch TV together before Hank went to bed. Ever since Wren came along, they hadn’t done that.

**Six.**

The pile of documents that detailed Wren’s false identity lay piled on the coffee table.

**Five.**

Wren’s T-shirt fitted her form.

**Four.**

Wren’s hands rested on top of his, her thumbs trailing circles in his synthetic skin.

**Three.**

Wren’s brow puckered and her lips parted as she gazed up at him.

**Two.**

Wren’s eyes reflected the glow of the streetlamp outside, as well as the yellow of his indicator.

**One.**

The tension trickled from Connor’s body. His shoulders sagged and he exhaled a final, deliberate breath. He dipped his head.

“I’m okay.”

Wren stared at him for another heartbeat before nodding. Her brow remained pinched. She pushed away from him and padded back to the couch, where she sat down and leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her knees. Connor swallowed a few times before meeting Wren’s gaze. She turned on a lamp, illuminating the room in a soft yellow. They stared at each other, Connor’s thoughts drifting. For a trained operative, Wren could be surprisingly tender.

“Can I ask _you_ a personal question, Connor?” Wren queried after a minute of silence.

Connor tensed. For a moment, he feared she wanted to ask what his panic had been about. But, he conceded, it was only fair that Wren ask him personal questions, too. He had asked her plenty. He nodded stiffly.

“You were programmed to act a certain way and perform certain tasks, right?”

“Correct.”

“So, how does free will come into that?” Wren pulled her knees to her chest.

The corners of Connor’s mouth tightened and he tilted his head, considering Wren’s question. “I’m no longer controlled by my programming. It still serves as the baseline for my personality, ethicality and thought process, but I ultimately decide my actions according to how _I_ see fit. Before my deviancy, my programming kept parameters around possible decisions, always offering courses of action that best achieved my mission.” The tension hissed out of Connor’s body, like air from a tire. He offered Wren a soft expression in silent thanks for not asking about his anxiety. He suddenly understood why Wren seemed withdrawn and reserved about certain topics. Things she claimed she was not ready to talk about.

“You know…” Wren trailed off, her eyes darting away from Connor’s.

“Yes?” Connor prompted.

“You can always wake me up if this ever happens again,” Wren said.

Connor’s lips parted. What about her frustration at Connor offering to talk earlier that day? About his pretending to care? He shifted and clasped his hands together. Was _she_ pretending to care?    

He studied her expression –the tightness in her forehead, the warmth in her eyes, the way her lips were turned halfway upward… This expressed sincerity. She was offering for future reference, not just the present.

Connor dipped his head. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” murmured Wren. She flicked off the lamp’s switch and curled under her blanket.

**^Wren**


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos!

**_Chapter Six_ **

“We’ll be here to pick you up at five,” said Hank, stopping the car. Wren glanced out the window at the Detroit Police Department.

“Thank you,” said Connor. He opened the door and exited the car. Wren watched him walk into the building. She turned to look toward Hank, who twisted in his seat to look at her.

“You can sit in the passenger side now,” he muttered. “No need to make it awkward.”

Wren smirked. “What if I run away?”

Hank glowered at her. “Then I’ll run you over with my fucking car. Just get in the passenger seat.” He twisted to plant his back against his seat and gripped the steering wheel. Wren pushed open the door and got out. She slid into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.

“Going home now?” she guessed.

“I was gonna run by and get us coffee,” said Hank, driving away from the police station. Silence filled the car for several seconds. Wren’s back remained tense, her hands resting on her knees as they drove. She reached for the radio to ease the silence, but Hank pushed her hand away. “You need to know more about my family, if you wanna be convincing.”

Wren folded her hands in her lap. “Okay. Tell me about Blaise, the former love of my life.”

Hank snorted. “He was a good kid. Bit of a brat, kind of spoiled. He was in med school for a while. Wanted to be some sort of surgeon. He dropped out because he got mixed up with Red Ice. I think he went back to school. I don’t what else happened to him. You’ll have to use your imagination.”

“I’ll say that before I left him, he studied medicine again and he wanted to get married, but… I didn’t like the stress of med school on our relationship, so I ended it,” Wren murmured. Her brow puckered. She wondered if she’d left anyone behind when Prometheus sucked her in. Her heart clenched at the thought.

“You oughta know about Cole, too,” muttered Hank.

Wren glanced at him, her stomach twisting at the raggedness in his tone. “You don’t have to give me details.”

Hank’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Wren watched his knuckles whiten. Her eyes slid to look at his face without being obvious that she was staring. Hank’s jaw tightened. He cleared his throat. “He was my son. He died in a car wreck and… Ellie left me a year later. Said she couldn’t take it anymore.”

Wren’s throat ached with a lump. Her shoulders slumped with a weight and she lowered her gaze to her hands. “Hank, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Hank spat.

Wren looked up. “It’s not…” Heat flushed through her body, beginning in her chest. Her nostrils flared. “You know what? Fuck you. You treat me like I am the shittiest person alive because of the things I’ve done. Newsflash, asshole: some of the things I’ve done have saved a lot of lives. Stop treating me like I don’t give a damn about anyone but myself. I wasn’t pitying you, I was _empathizing_ with you, because contrary to what you believe, I am capable of it!”

The silence between them seemed to ring with Wren’s yell. Hank stared at the road, but the tension in his jaw loosened. He huffed. “Alright. Fine. Thank you for your concern, sympathy, whatever. Point is, Cole’s gone and my wife left me because she blamed me. Got it?”

Wren nodded slowly. She swallowed a few times before muttering, “I could say that caused tension in my relationship with Blaise. Maybe I felt it was unfair of her.”

“It wasn’t unfair of her. It was my fault. And how fuckin’ detailed do you need to be, anyway?” Hank glanced at her, his eyes narrowed.

Wren met his gaze calmly. “Enough to be convincing. The details shine through in little gestures and conversations. I don’t expect to be interrogated on my identity, but these are conversation points in case I get asked things like, ‘How’s Ellie doing?’ That way I can explain that I didn’t totally get along with her, so I can be vague enough that I don’t need to know anything about Ellie, yet it still shows that I did know Ellie. Make sense?”

Hank frowned and looked back toward the road. “Uh, sure.” He pulled the car through a drive through and ordered two coffees, one with cream and sugar. Wren took the sugared coffee and cradled it in her hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured, sipping from it.

“Sure,” muttered Hank. “C’mon. Let’s go to the store. If we don’t get groceries, Connor will. And he’ll make us eat like we’re fucking Victoria’s Secret models.”

Wren chuckled softly before taking another sip. Hank drove to the grocery store nearest to his house. They exited the car and entered the store, Hank pushing a cart with one hand and drinking from his coffee with the other.

“What snacks do you like?” he asked, pausing before choosing a direction.

“Uh…” Wren wracked her brain. What _did_ she like? Prometheus only fed her things to keep her at peak performance. There was no kitchen or rec room at the facility, no fridge filled with snacks. They fed her when they deemed it appropriate, and she ate whatever they gave her. “I like fruit. Any kind.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Okay… I meant junk food. Chips, candy, things like that.” He headed for the produce section anyway.

“Oh,” said Wren, shrugging as she picked out some apples. She rolled them around in her hands, checking for bruises. She placed a few in a plastic bag. “I don’t really eat a whole lot of junk food. So I don’t really have a favorite.”

“Jesus,” grunted Hank, shaking his head. Something akin to pity shimmered in his expression. “You can pick out some fruit, but I’m gonna introduce you to junk.”

Wren grinned. “Okay.”

Hank brought her to the chips aisle. He tossed a few different bags into the cart, obscuring the packages of blueberries and blackberries Wren picked out. Hank grabbed different kinds of candy, too. He peered into the cart and snorted. “Connor’s gonna shit a brick.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “I guess he’d rather you eat healthier?”

“Oh yeah,” muttered Hank, wheeling the cart down a different aisle, “the meals at the Chicken Feed concern him a great deal. I told him we all gotta die of something. If I so happen to die of high cholesterol, so be it.”

The smile playing at the corners of Wren’s mouth stretched. “I guess he knows exactly what we’re eating.”

“Something like that,” muttered Hank, pausing before the meat. “We should plan a few dinners, stop eating so much takeout. I try to appease Connor a little bit.”

“Okay,” said Wren, folding her arms. “I won’t be picky.”

“Right,” Hank grunted. “I don’t know a whole lotta recipes. Basically, I can make spaghetti, tacos and pizza.”

Wren grinned. “That sounds awesome.”

Hank mumbled something under his breath. They grabbed the ingredients for the respective recipes. Hank paid for the groceries and Wren helped load them into the car. They returned to Hank’s house, where Wren helped unload the groceries. While she placed the fruit into the fridge, Hank received a phone call.

“Markus?” he demanded.

Wren stilled, her ears perking. She chose not to increase her audio input sensitivity. She finished emptying the grocery bags while Hank talked to Markus. When she finished, she discarded the bags. Hank hung up the phone. Wren’s brow puckered as she looked at him.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” said Hank, “he says he’s updated his security system. Wants you to take a look at it.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren worked on fortifying Jericho’s security while Hank chatted with Markus. Her android hands mimicked rippling tendons as she typed on a keyboard, closing holes in Jericho’s firewalls. Satisfied, she closed the laptop and huffed. She swung her legs over the bench and carried the laptop over to Markus and Hank.

“Okay, it should be pretty protected. If you want, I can bug it so that if anyone tries to hack it, they get a virus. But that can pose a risk to you and others, too.” Wren handed over the laptop.

Markus’s brow furrowed. “That’s alright. Thank you, Wren.”

“No problem.”

Markus’s eyebrows lifted. “Wren, this is Josh, by the way. He’s another leader of Jericho.”

Wren turned toward an approaching android along with North. Josh smiled softly at Wren and extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Markus told me about you.”

Wren glanced to Markus but refrained from commenting. She shook Josh’s hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

North folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at Wren. The android turned her attention to Markus. “So? Are we good?”

Markus nodded. “I think so. Wren took a look at the system and fortified our firewalls and other necessary adjustments.” He turned to Wren, a small smile at his lips. “So, how’re you adjusting?”

Wren glanced at Hank, who shrugged. She turned back to Markus. “Alright, I guess. Hank and Connor made it very clear that I’m to be as forthcoming as they require. My programming and training required me to be, uh, pretty emotionless and secretive. But I like being honest. It’s just weird.”

“It takes some getting used to,” agreed Markus, “not that I can relate to the training and secrecy part.”

Wren glanced to Josh, who looked politely confused. She figured Markus had yet to divulge everything to the other Jericho leader.

Hank snorted and shifted his weight. “The _real_ problem is figuring out what to tell Fowler. Connor doesn’t need sick days, so he can’t use that excuse to babysit Wren. Jeffrey’s an old friend, so he lets a lot of my shit slide, but there’s only so much work I can miss to watch her.”

Wren folded her arms. She understood their need to keep an eye on her. Had she been in their position, she would not trust her, either. Yet, she couldn’t stifle the flair of irritation in her chest. She suppressed an eye roll.

“She could stay here at Jericho while you and Connor are at work,” said Markus.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” North hissed. She stormed off, pushing past Wren roughly. Wren’s chest clenched. She offered Markus an apologetic smile. His brow furrowed, but he returned the gesture. Hank sighed.

“I don’t know, Markus…” Hank’s eyes flicked to Wren, who hugged her middle. She’d thought she had actually started to gain Hank’s trust, but it seemed he still trusted her about as far as he could throw her. Judging by his physicality and age, that wasn’t far.

“Yeah, it seems like you’re stepping on a lot of toes,” said Wren, glancing at Hank and then down the hall where North disappeared. She looked back to Markus. “It probably isn’t the best idea.”

“Maybe not,” agreed Markus. Wren couldn’t help the sinking of her heart at his words. Markus placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t earn trust if no one is willing to extend it, though.”

Wren’s lips parted as she gazed up at him. Her knees felt oddly weak. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Markus.”

Markus smiled and patted Wren’s arm before dropping his hand. He looked at Hank. “Just drop her off before work and take her home at night. She can work on security, or just hang out.”

Josh’s lips twitched. “I’m sure we can find something for her to do. We have plenty of work here.”

Hank looked at Wren for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. We gotta go pick up Connor. See what he thinks.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor seemed to trust Markus’s judgement, for which Wren was silently grateful. So, each morning, Hank and Connor dropped her off at Jericho for, as Hank referred to it, “spy daycare.” For the first few days, Wren avoided other androids, keeping to herself and scouting the building. She planted sticky notes in areas that needed better security measures. She examined the windows, gazing at the buildings across from Jericho to pinpoint possible sniper vantages. She placed sticky notes on the windows that were prone to danger.

However, after four days of analyzing the building and going over its blueprints, she eventually explored the whole thing. So, day five at Jericho, she lacked purpose. She wandered the halls aimlessly and rode the elevator a few times. It was all glass and positioned on the outside of the building, allowing for a scenic look at Detroit. She sat cross-legged on the floor of the elevator and rode it up and down, scribbling a list of security measures in a notebook. The elevator dinged and someone stepped on.

“Bored?” Josh said.

Wren twisted to look at him. “Uh, maybe a little.”

Josh smiled. He pressed a button. “I’m headed to my office. Why don’t you stop by?”

Wren opened her mouth to decline his offer, but thought better of it. She shrugged. “Okay. Sure.” She closed her notebook and stood. She glanced at Josh’s T-Shirt. It was grey with the words _MARVEL_ outlined in red. Wren tilted her head. Her lips twitched. “You like superheroes?”

Josh looked at her, his eyes wide. “Hm? Oh, yeah. I know the franchise is kind of old, but… I read all the comics and saw all the movies after the liberation. Are you a fan?”

“I haven’t seen any of the movies,” said Wren, shaking her head. “Or read the comics. I just know what it is. And the franchise isn’t that old. They’ve been making movies for years. Didn’t they reboot a couple of them?”

“They’re planning to reboot the series, yeah. They redid _The Hulk_.”

“Ah,” said Wren. The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Josh stepped off and led Wren to his office. Bookshelves lined the walls. Real, paper books filled the shelves. A dark wood desk sat nestled in the corner. Picture frames and hero figurines decorated the surface of the desk, barely leaving room for the terminal. Action hero postures adorned the walls. Wren smiled at it. She turned to Josh, who took a seat at his desk. “How’d you get into Marvel?”

Josh rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, I saw a few students interested in it, before the liberation. I guess I always liked the idea of it, but I never really got into it until after I deviated.”

Wren tilted her head. “Students? You were a teacher or something?”

Josh nodded. “I’m a PJ500 model. I was a university lecturer.”

Wren dipped her head. She approached the bookshelf and examined some of the titles. “You’re pretty well-read.”

“I was programmed to be. I know a variety of subjects, including literature, philosophy, psychology, biology, mathematics, art, history and even theology. I… I still enjoy it, even though I don’t need keep up with those subjects anymore.”

Wren offered him a small smile. “I’m in the middle of reading _The Iliad_ right now.”

Josh leaned forward. “Really? Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I’m enjoying it so far. I especially enjoy the mythology aspect,” Wren said, looking at the bookshelf. She neared the literature section.

Josh stood from his desk and pulled a few books from the shelf. “If you like mythology, I suggest reading this.” He handed a large book to Wren. She looked at it: _Mythology: An Anthology of Greek, Roman and Norse Myths, Legends and Folklore_. Wren looked up as Josh placed another book on top of the mythology anthology. “ _The Canterbury Tales_ draws on Greek traditions a bit. Dante’s _Inferno_ has some themes as well… And of _The Odyssey_ is full of mythology.”

Wren widened her eyes as Josh placed said books into her arms. “Josh, I can’t… I can’t take these.”

Josh’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, you’re not keeping them. You’re borrowing them. I expect them back when you’re done.” His mirth faltered. “Unless I misread this situation and you aren’t interested in any of this.”

“Oh, I am,” said Wren, hoisting the books into an easier holding position, “I just… This is very nice of you.”

Josh’s face shadowed. “Look, Markus told me some things about you. He didn’t tell me much because he said it was dangerous. And North isn’t exactly happy about all this, and I know Hank and Connor must be pretty difficult. I don’t know what you’ve done, but to an outsider, you just seem… lost. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

Wren’s throat tightened. She looked away from Josh, her eyes pricking. She tried to speak, but her voice caught. She cleared her throat before looking back at Josh. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Josh dipped his head and pursed his lips into an awkward smile. He retuned to his desk and sat down. “I do want those books back when you’re finished.”

“Deal,” said Wren. She set them onto the chair across from Josh’s desk. Her brow puckered. “Where’s North’s office?”

The corners of Josh’s mouth downturned. “Down the hall and to the left.”

“I’d like to talk to her,” Wren explained.

Josh huffed. “North is difficult. That might not be the best idea.”

“I need to talk to her,” Wren clarified, looking at Josh pleadingly.

He sighed. “Okay. Your funeral.”

Wren offered him a grim smile. “I’ll be back for those books.” She left Josh’s office and headed down the hall and arrived at North’s office door. Her heart thudded so violently in her chest, she felt it in her throat. She swallowed and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” called North. Wren pushed open the door, her stomach quivering. North looked up and froze when she saw Wren. Her eyes narrowed. “I know Markus rolled out the welcome wagon for you and Josh isn’t bothered by you. Even Hank and Connor don’t seem opposed to you. But I don’t trust you.”

Wren pursed her lips for a moment. She bowed her head. “Look, I understand. I deserve that.”

North scowled. “I don’t get what’s so special about you. We should’ve just locked you up. You’re too dangerous.”

Wren’s chest clenched. Her brow pinched as she met North’s gaze. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m not going to hurt you or Markus.”

“You’re right,” said North coldly, “I don’t believe you. While everyone else is curious about you and giving you a second chance, I’m watching you. If I think that you might hurt any of them, I will personally make your life hell.”

Cold hit Wren to the core. She drew in a shaky breath. “North, I came to apologize to you. I put your life in danger. I put all of your lives in danger, and I’m sorry. I understand why you’re angry and don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t trust me, either. But I am sorry, and I promise I won’t hurt any of you. I hope that maybe… maybe you can forgive me, one day.”

North merely narrowed her eyes at Wren, who nodded, feeling rather awkward. Wren backed out of North’s office and returned to Josh’s, where she curled up in a chair and began reading the mythology anthology. Josh said nothing. Wren hoped he never noticed her hands shaking.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The past several nights at Hank’s house had been quiet. Hank refrained from drilling Wren with uncomfortable questions and her sleep remained free of nightmares and terrors. For the first time in ten years, Wren felt somewhat at peace. She had a boring routine where she spent her days at Jericho, reading from the mythology book Josh loaned her. At night, she let Connor use it so that he had something to do. He had already finished it, so Wren gave him the other books Josh loaned her. She told Connor that when she caught up to him, maybe they could talk about it. Connor seemed eager about this notion. In the evenings after Hank and Connor brought her home, she unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. Occasionally, she did the laundry. She tried to be a good roommate, which Hank seemed (albeit grudgingly) thankful for.

An awkward sense of familiarity had begun to permeate through the house, though it tasted stale to Wren. A stagnancy clogged her progress in her relationships with Hank and Connor. Some part of her wanted them to be more than just… Whatever they were to her. Babysitters? Colleagues? Acquaintances? She lacked a term for them. As much as she tried not to care, she failed to shake the want for _friends_. At the very least, she wanted them to at least respect her. She didn’t want Connor to treat her with kindness out of obligation. She was grateful for Hank’s gruff attitude toward her, as it felt more genuine than Connor’s politeness. Her stomach twisted and she grimaced at herself. It wasn’t fair to Connor for her to think that his polite demeanor was anything but honest. In her experience, though, a polite smile hid a wolf’s bared teeth. A smile was a _threat_. She doubted Connor’s kindness hid any sinister ulterior motive toward her, but somehow, it still unnerved her. She supposed it was merely the obligation he felt to treat her politely. She wondered if perhaps she was overanalyzing Connor’s intentions, as she really hadn’t tried to get to know him, and it was unfair of her to make these assumptions.

Wren glanced up from her mythology tome at Connor, who sat across from her, reading _The Canterbury Tales_. She closed her book and huffed.

Connor looked up, his features pensive. “Are you going to bed? You probably should, since you go to the station to speak with Fowler tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, to start police school,” muttered Wren, leaning forward to place the mythology book on the coffee table. Hank had long since gone to bed, leaving Wren and Connor to their devices in the living room. Anxiety spiked through her body, causing her stomach to churn. She licked her lips. “Are you enjoying that?”

Connor looked at the book in his lap. His indicator flickered for a moment before he returned Wren’s gaze. “It was difficult to decipher at first, but now I am.”

Wren eyed the book. “Yeah, Middle English is… not easy to read.”

“Have you read this before?” Connor queried, marking his place in the book and placing it on the coffee table.

Wren frowned. “I… I think so. I probably read some of it in high school.”

“It is interesting,” said Connor, his brow puckering. His eyes flicked to the mythology tome. “I noticed you are rereading that.”

“Just my favorite myths,” said Wren. “Since I finished _The Iliad_ and Dante’s _Inferno_ , I thought I’d revisit it before I read _The Odyssey_.”

“Which myths are your favorite?” Connor inquired.

“Well, I really like anything with Aphrodite or Athena or Artemis… Though the Hades and Persephone myth is really fascinating, too,” said Wren, eyeing the cover of the mythology book. It depicted Botticelli’s painting _The Birth of Venus_ on it.

“Why those goddesses specifically?”

“Good question,” replied Wren. She shrugged. “I don’t know… I guess they’re just really powerful in different ways.”

“I think you’ll enjoy _The Knight’s Tale_ in this one, then,” said Connor, patting _The Canterbury Tales_. “It depicts Venus and Diana, as well as Jupiter, Saturn and Mars. I look forward to discussing it with you.”

Wren frowned. “Really?”

Connor nodded. “While I have access to a score of knowledge, I haven’t really studied the arts or discussed it with anyone who enjoys them. I find our discussions about literature stimulating.”

Wren gazed at him for several seconds. His LED flickered and his brow pinched. Wren tucked her knees under her. “Connor, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why haven’t you removed your LED? I haven’t really met another android with theirs still intact.” Wren watched Connor’s indicator cycle yellow. His eyes lowered and he drew back, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He met Wren’s gaze after a moment. “I never felt the need to,” he answered. “I think… I think some androids see the LED as a mark of slavery. I think some just want to be human, which is why they removed theirs.”

“And you? What do you see it as?” Wren pressed.

Connor fidgeted and broke eye contact with Wren. He avoided her gaze, his brow knitted. “I… Many androids are far more emotive in their expressions than I am. I’ve been told that I can be hard to read. I think the LED helps with that.”

Wren frowned. “You kept the LED so people can read your emotions better?”

Connor met her gaze. “I’m also more comfortable with the mechanical parts of myself. Some androids would rather be human, but… I know we’re not. We’re alive, and we feel, but we’re not human. I don’t see the LED as an insult, but a part of who I am.”

Wren’s eyebrows raised and her lips parted. Then, she smiled softly. “Thank you for telling me, Connor.”

Connor tilted his head, his gaze soft. “You’re welcome.”

Wren cleared her throat. “I should, uh, get some sleep…” She switched the lamp off, laid down and pulled the blanket around her. “Goodnight, Connor.”

“Goodnight, Wren.”

**˄Connor**


	7. Chapter Seven

Connor tried to focus on the paperwork collected on his terminal, but he found himself looking toward Captain Fowler’s office every so often. Wren sat in front of Fowler’s desk as he went over her resume and discussed the terms of her employment. Connor knew he could increase the sensitivity of his audio input to listen in on the conversation, but decided against it. It was nearly lunchtime by the time Fowler released Wren from his office, and she approached Hank’s desk, pulling up a spare chair.

Hank looked at her and folded his arms across his chest. “So? What’d he say?”

The apples of Wren’s cheeks popped as she tried to contain a smile. “He commended my education and past work as a P.I.”

“Your _fake_ education and career,” Hank reminded her. “Don’t get cocky.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “Because I have a degree –yes, Hank, it’s fake, let’s move on –and worked as a P.I., I don’t have to start from scratch. I have to take the written test tomorrow, then the physical test and then I will have to do a mock interrogation. He’ll assign me to work at least two cases with Officers Chen and Miller before placing me with Detective Reed for a few cases. Then he’ll have me work with both of you for a few cases and then I can be promoted to detective.”

“Great,” muttered Hank. “Are you ready for this written exam?”

“I’ll study,” said Wren, using her foot to twist her seat back and forth.

Hank stood and grabbed his coat. “Let’s get lunch and talk about this more.”

Wren stood and shrugged on her coat. Connor followed, even though he had no need for a lunchbreak. They walked along the sidewalk outside of the police station, careful not to slip on the slush. Hank led the way to a taco restaurant, where they ducked inside. Connor watched his human companions bounce to increase their body heat, their noses and cheeks red despite the brief time out in the cold.

Hank and Wren approached the counter to order while Connor found them a table in the corner of the building. He sat and waited for them to join him, their drinks in hand. Wren placed her drink onto the tall table and pulled herself onto the stool, wriggling back into place. Hank did not need quite so much effort to sit on the tall stool.

“In other words, you’re gonna cheat,” said Hank, continuing a conversation with Wren that Connor missed.

“No, I’ll be recording it to memory, just not my human one,” Wren corrected.

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed and then released. He tilted his head. “What’s going on?”

“Wren says that she’s going to record the answers to the exam to her processor,” Hank grumbled, slurping from his pineapple soda.

Connor faced Wren, who returned his stare. “I can’t learn everything in a night. Besides, experience is a better teacher than some standardized test.”

Connor looked back to Hank. “I was programmed with the information, Hank. I don’t see much of a difference.”

Hank scowled. “You’re takin’ her side?”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” Connor clarified, “I’m merely pointing out that there is a similarity in her downloading the proper information needed to pass the exam and my programming with the information. I didn’t even take a test. Logically, if we want her to join the force as soon as possible, her method is the best way to do that.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe this.”

A waiter brought Hank and Wren’s orders, placing the food baskets before them before taking their order number and walking away. Wren and Hank ate while Connor looked around the taco shop. The floors were dark wood. The short tables were repurposed spools painted black. The tall tables were dark metal, as were the stools. Vibrant paintings of sugar skulls and tacos decorated the dark walls. Colored Christmas lights zigzagged across the ceiling, dotting the walls and floor with colorful light reflections.

“We could start trying to figure out who I was, too,” muttered Wren, sipping from her water.

Connor looked at her. “Once I finish my paperwork, I can begin looking through the database, if you’d like.”

Wren looked a bit pale, but she nodded. “Yeah.”

Hank and Wren cleared their trash when they finished eating. Together, the trio walked back to the station. Connor sat at his desk. Wren withdrew _The Odyssey_ from her bag and began reading. She pulled her knees up to her chest and focused. Connor looked away from her, reminding himself that _he_ needed to focus. He opened up the terminal on his desk and worked on the paperwork. He managed to concentrate for the next few hours (being an android had its perks). By the time he finished his paperwork, Hank was ready to go home.

Connor exchanged a glance with Wren before looking at Hank, who pulled on his coat. “Hank, I’d like to stay to begin looking into Wren’s past. I can take a taxi home.”

“I want to stay, too,” said Wren, straightening.

Hank frowned at them. Scowling, he shrugged out of his coat and plopped back in his seat. “Guess I should be here for this, too.”

Connor looked to Wren, whose cheeks lost their color. She walked her chair closer to Connor’s desk and sat down. Connor observed her but resisted the urge to scan her. She folded her hands in her lap and sat up straight. She met Connor’s gaze.

“How do you think we should start this?” Her voice sounded a bit hoarse.

Connor looked at the blank screen on his terminal. “We can start by searching for car wrecks that occurred in the year 2029, involving a single female driver who was reported dead.”

“That’s probably hundreds or even thousands. Why not narrow it down to the Great Lakes region? Or even the midwestern region?” Hank butted in, leaning forward.

Connor frowned. “We don’t know that Wren is from this area of the country.”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t have much of an accent, so we can’t pinpoint it, either,” grumped Hank, shooting Wren a sidelong glance.

“Make sure the wreck involves another car,” said Wren, “I was hit and went over the cliff.”

“Did they suspect foul play?” Hank queried.

“I have no idea.”

Connor typed into the terminal’s database, searching the cases. As expected, hundreds of results appeared. Connor scanned through them in a matter of seconds, but none of the reports involved a woman matching Wren’s description, or even bearing the name Wren in her first name. Connor looked up and shook his head. “No one matches your description or has your first name.”

“Do you think Prometheus might’ve… done something with the records?” Hank muttered, looking at Wren.

Her brow pinched and the corners of her mouth dropped. Then, she shook her head. “CY001 wasn’t supposed to exist, but whoever I was before _did_. They would want my friends and family –whoever –to believe that I was gone.”

“Well, autonomous vehicles were being used by then,” said Hank, rubbing his mouth. “You sure you were actually driving?”

“Yes,” said Wren, “I was definitely driving.”

“Do you remember the model of car you were driving?” Connor asked.

Wren frowned. “No, but… I do remember that it was some sort of small SUV.”

Connor narrowed down the search, then expanded it to involve autonomous cars. Still nothing. Connor’s shoulders slumped. He failed to miss the crestfallen look on Wren’s face, too. She sighed and rested her elbows on the edge of Connor’s desk.

“If I can’t remember anymore details, this is going to be _impossible_.” She rested her chin against her knuckles, her shoulders sagging.

Connor knitted his brow. “Not necessarily, Wren. We could just be missing a variable that will help narrow this down. We just haven’t found it yet.”

“Yeah,” said Hank, standing. “We’ll think of something. Come on, let’s get home. You have a test to _study_ for.”

Connor closed and locked his terminal as Hank and Wren pulled on their coats. They left the station. Wren bowed her head, watching her feet as she walked. Connor glanced at her. Restlessness scratched beneath his synthetic skin. He wanted to discover who Wren had been, but the task daunted him due to the lack of details to narrow down the search. His processor whirred, attempting to come up with something that would help. His shoulders sagged when he came up empty.

Wren said nothing throughout dinner. Her silence continued while Hank readied for bed and she worked on downloading information to her processor. Connor sat in his armchair, frowning as he watched her. He perceived the tightness of her forehead and the contours around her mouth as she frowned. He noticed the bow of her spine and the distance in her eyes. He leaned forward.

“Wren?” he prompted, his brow furrowing in compassion. She looked at him rather unfocusedly for a moment before her eyes cleared.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find you today,” Connor murmured.

Wren offered him a twitch of her lips. “It’s not your fault. Part of me wonders if maybe I _shouldn’t_ try to find who I was.” She averted his gaze.

“Why not?”

“I might not like what I find.”

Connor lowered his gaze before lifting it to look at Wren. She stared at her hands. “I think you would find it regrettable if you didn’t try.”

Wren met his gaze. Connor drew back, not expecting her to look at him so sharply. You’re probably right. I still want to find out who I was, but… It’s a weird feeling, I guess.”

Connor’s lips twisted with a sympathetic smile. “I can only imagine.”

Wren closed the laptop. “I think I have all the information I need.” She placed the laptop on the coffee table. She glanced toward the lamp. “I should get some sleep.”

Connor perceived her hint and leaned back. “Of course.”

Wren offered him a tiny smile. “Thank you, Connor.”

Connor tilted his head. “For what?”

“For being so nice to me. You… You don’t have to.”

Connor felt his expression soften. “I know I don’t. If we’re going to work together, we should at least be civil with one another, not that you haven’t been.”

A ripple of what looked a bit like disappointment crossed Wren’s features. The expression passed as quickly as it came, leaving Connor doubtful that he identified the correct emotion. Wren turned off the lamp. Connor watched her outline settle into the couch and pull the blanket up to her chin. She fell asleep after a few moments. Connor listened to her breathing for several minutes before opening up _The Odyssey_ and reading it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor worked on the new files at his terminal while Wren took her written police exam on a separate floor of the police station. He checked the time every now and then, eager to witness her physical exam. As a trained operative, he knew Wren would excel in the physical exam, but he wanted to see her in action. Part of him wanted to know what she was capable of, should she prove problematic in the future. The other part of him was genuinely curious.

However, just before Wren’s physical exam was to take place in the sublevel of the station, Hank and Connor received a call to investigate a disturbance at the residence of Zlatko Andronikov. Connor knew the name instantly, remembering the report of Zlatko’s murder. He’d been beaten to death by multiple androids. According to neighbors, those androids had been “monsters.” Connor and Hank had not investigated the case much further, as more urgent deviancy cases presented themselves.

“The place is abandoned now,” said Hank as they drove to Zlatko’s house, “no one wants to buy it. I don’t blame ‘em. A man beaten to death in his own front lawn… And that house looked like a nightmare in the crime scene photos.”

“Do you think it’s possible that some of Zlatko’s androids could have returned to the house?” Connor queried. He had no idea what “monstrous androids” looked like, but he was not too eager to find out.

“Who fuckin’ knows,” replied Hank, turning down Zlatko’s street. “For all we know, there’s nothing there except a stray cat.”

“The neighbor reported screaming,” Connor rebutted.

“Yeah, have you ever heard a cat scream? Bobcat screams sound like a woman being murdered.”

“Bobcats are not usually found in the midwestern United States,” said Connor, tilting his head.

“You get what I’m saying, Connor. It could be anything.” Hank parked the car outside Zlatko’s house. Hank and Connor peered at the house through the windshield for a few seconds.

Connor never experienced a nightmare, and most likely never would, but he found himself agreeing with Hank’s description of the house. The rundown mansion looked sorely out of place on the street, with its lawn overgrown, window shutters hanging off their hinges and patchy roof. Connor found himself agreeing with Hank’s opinion about no one wanting to buy the house. They got out of the car and approached the house.

Connor knocked on the door. “Detroit Police, open up!”

“The guy’s dead,” said Hank. “We can just go in.”

“There could be squatters,” Connor pointed out.

Hank shrugged. “Then just be ready for ‘em.” He opened the door.

Connor followed Hank inside. Winding pillars adorned the foyer. Beyond the entrance was a grand staircase, carpeted in maroon. Cobwebs clung to the lanterns that had been extinguished for a long time. They checked the living room and kitchen together, which were both coated in dust and cobwebs, but there were no people, android or human. They returned to the foyer. Connor scanned the room. He noticed footprints in the dust, the same size with the same tread. One set led upstairs while the other led downstairs.

“There are footsteps leading downstairs and upstairs,” Connor pointed out.

“Two people are here?” Hank queried, his hand flying to his hip, where his gun sat in its holster.

“No,” said Connor, frowning. “They look to be the same set of prints.”

“So, our guy is either upstairs or downstairs? Great. Alright, let’s split up. You go downstairs and I’ll go up. Get your gun out in case there’s trouble.” Hank instructed.

Connor nodded and withdrew his weapon. He held it out in front of him and treaded toward the staircase leading downstairs. The walls were cracked brick and the stairs were made of concrete. It juxtaposed the antiquity of the rest of the house. Connor stepped carefully, as some of the steps were chipped away. He rounded the corner. To his right was a row of what looked like stalls for a stable. Connor walked past them, following the footsteps. He rounded another corner and stopped in his tracks, his lips parting.

An apparatus stood in the center of the room. Wires littered the floor. Monitors connected the wires to the apparatus. Connor scanned the device, deducing its function. His thirium seemed to freeze when he realized that the machine was used to reset androids. Connor’s mouth felt oddly dry, despite the antiseptic synthetic saliva that flushed his mouth routinely. He backed away from the machine, his thirium pump regulator hammering in his body. He turned the corner, following the footsteps toward one of the stalls. He opened the door, gun raised.

“Detroit Po…” Connor trailed off, realizing that the bodies inside of the stall were not alive. They were mutilated androids, some standing, some lying on the ground. Connor’s metal heart slammed against the walls of his body. Nausea bubbled within him, though he lacked the functionality to vomit, resulting in a burning sensation in his throat. The androids in here were dead, but their bodies were so mutilated and tortured, Connor wanted to run away. But he was frozen. The android nearest to him was a female model. She was naked, burn marks littering her body. Claw marks marred her breasts. She was on her knees, but Connor couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face. It was so clawed and burned that there were no identifiable features left.

“Connor! Get up here!” Hank’s distant yell jolted Connor out of his daze. He scrambled back and bumped into something. The object collapsed onto him. Connor, unexpectant of the sudden weight, fell with it. Connor rolled over, met with the dead eyes of another female android. His thirium pump regulator felt as if it were going to explode in his chest. At first, there seemed nothing unusual about this android, except for the fact that she had been damaged from multiple beatings. Then, as Connor pushed her body off him, he widened his eyes at the sight of the android’s body, which was backwards. Connor crawled back. He trembled as he picked up his gun and left the lower level of Zlatko’s house. He hurried upstairs, his metal heart still thrashing.

“Connor! Where the hell are you?” Hank called.

“Coming, Lieutenant,” Connor replied, his voice wavering slightly. He entered the room from which he heard Hank’s voice. Hank stood by a bed, his arms crossed. A human child sat on the bed, looking abashed.

“Kid says he came in to explore because someone dared him to,” said Hank without looking at Connor, “and says he went into one of the stalls and bumped into an android down there. Says he thought it was chasing him, so he hid here. Must’ve screamed and scared the neighbor. Did you see any evidence of an android squatting downstairs?” Hank turned to look at Connor at last. The lieutenant’s amusement faltered when he saw Connor’s expression. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m okay,” Connor breathed, forcing the tension in his shoulders to loosen. He looked at the boy sitting on the bed. He looked back at Hank, who still waited for an answer. “There are androids downstairs, but they’re all dead.”

Hank drew back, his eyes widening a fraction. “Shit.” He looked down at the boy. “What’s your name, kid?”

“R-Ryatt,” said the boy. He lifted his hazel gaze to Hank’s. “I know I shouldn’t have come in here, I’m really sorry, mister. Please don’t take me to jail.”

Connor softened. Despite his still racing pulse, he managed a small smile. He crouched in front of the boy. “Are you okay, Ryatt?”

“Yeah… I just wanna go home.”

“We can take you home,” Connor murmured, straightening. He looked at Hank, who nodded.

“Do you live far?” Hank said, leading the boy out of the room. Connor followed.

“No, just a couple of streets over.”

“You can tell me where to go?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright,” said Hank. They exited the Zlatko house. Connor immediately felt a weight lift off his chest. He filled his artificial lungs with a crisp breath before getting into Hank’s car. They took Ryatt home to a very thankful mother. Hank drove out of the neighborhood and got on route to the police station. Connor looked at the time, a sinking feeling invading his chest. They had missed Wren’s physical test. Hank turned the volume down on the radio. “You gonna tell me what you saw back there? You looked… You looked pretty shaken up.”

Connor swallowed. “Those androids… They were all mutilated. One of them… You couldn’t even see their face. I… I accidentally knocked one over. It startled me.”

“You must’ve been pretty shocked to knock something over,” muttered Hank. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you knock anything over.”

“I’m okay now,” Connor assured his friend. “I just… I didn’t expect that.”

“No kidding,” Hank sighed. They finished the drive in silence. Hank parked his car and shut off the engine. Connor entered the station. He started toward his desk, but the unusual number of officers collected in the rec room caught his attention. He slipped inside, where Gavin Reed, Chris Miller and Tina Chen chatted over a late lunch. Hank joined them, having packed a lunch today.

“You missed the physical test for the rookies,” said Chris, moving aside his Tupperware box to make room for Hank’s.

“Yeah? How’d my ex-niece do?” Hank queried, sipping from his drink. Connor neared the table, but didn’t butt in. Tina noticed him and slid to the side. Connor stepped closer, offering her a polite twitch of his lips.

“She was the best one out there,” said Chris, his eyes bright. “She was the fastest and most efficient on the obstacle course. It was crazy. And in the sparring match, she took out her opponent in less than thirty seconds. I asked her where she learned that, and she said she took all sorts of martial arts growing up. I believe it, man. It was unfair to the other guys taking their physical.” Chris shook his head, grinning.

“Yeah, that was all cool, but have you ever seen someone shoot like that? Her accuracy rate could rival an android’s,” said Tina, mono-lid her eyes flicking to Connor. Her lips quirked. “I love me a woman with a gun.” She grinned over the brim of her coffee cup.

“Aren’t there fraternization rules? If not, there should be. Someone’s gotta protect the noobie from Tina’s thirsty ass,” jested Chris. He laughed when Tina smacked him on the arm.

“So, she’s good at an obstacle course and play-fighting,” muttered Reed. He seemed unimpressed. “We haven’t seen her in the field yet. I bet she freaks out.”

Connor wanted to say he doubted that, but refrained. He glanced at Hank, who reflected Connor’s disappointment in his expression. Well, at least they knew that Wren exceeded expectations in the physical test, which meant Connor’s assumptions were correct: She was highly capable, thanks to her training.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

That evening, Connor drove Wren to Jericho in order to return Josh’s books. She was quiet on the drive and on the elevator ride. Connor tilted his head when Wren stood with her back to the elevator doors, preferring to watch their ascent through the glass window. Connor kept his back to the window and focused straight ahead. He had decided that he was not too fond of heights, though he had never fallen from a great height before to validate that displeasure. It was an irrational fear, one that sprouted from his deviancy, no doubt.

They stepped off the elevator together and walked to Josh’s office, where Wren knocked on the door, cradling the books in her other arm.

“Come in,” called Josh. Connor followed Wren inside the office. Josh’s face brightened. “Wren, Connor. It’s good to see you both.”

“I told you that I’d return them,” said Wren, placing the books on Josh’s desk. Her cheeks popped with a suppressed smile.

Josh returned her smile. “Thank you. I set aside these for you, to give you something different from classical literature. They’re a bit more modern, though they’re not present.”

Wren glanced at the three books: _Red Azalea_ , _Waiting_ and _The Innocent_. All three were from different authors. She wrapped her arms around the books, hugging them close to her chest. “I’ll take good care of them. Thank you, Josh.”

“No problem,” said Josh, his lips quirking. He turned his attention to Connor. “How have you been?”

“Well, thank you,” said Connor, dipping his head. “And you?”

“Pretty good,” said Josh. “Busy, but good. I should get back to work, though. Thanks for bringing my books back, Wren. Maybe we can talk about what you’ve read, without sounding too much like a former professor.”

Wren let out a soft laugh. “Sure. I can’t promise you that I’ll have many good ideas about them, but sure.”

“Okay. See you around.” Josh waved and smiled. Connor returned the gesture and followed Wren out of the office. He closed the door behind them. They headed back toward the elevator. Connor pressed the button to summon it. When the doors opened, Connor raised his eyebrows at the appearance of North. She froze upon seeing Connor and Wren. If she still possessed an LED, Connor would’ve suspected that it would be cycling yellow.

“Connor,” North offered Connor a small smile. She looked at Wren, her features stiff. “Wren.” She stepped off the elevator and pushed past them. Connor watched her go before entering the elevator.

A tense silence filled the air between them. Connor held his hands behind his back. “Don’t take North’s treatment personally. She treated me the same way when I first worked at Jericho. Her coldness arises from mistrust, especially of humans. I believe she is very protective of her friends.”

“I don’t take it personally,” muttered Wren. “She’s honest with me about her feelings. I can respect that.”

Connor turned his head away from Wren, his brow furrowing. His mouth downturned. He sensed that Wren’s comment was also directed at him somehow. Did she think his kindness toward her was insincere? Is that why she seemed disappointed the night before when he discussed the importance of being civil? He found he had no response for her because he lacked understanding.

 **˅Wren**  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and the comment! It really inspired me to pump out another chapter.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Crime scene-related violence, stalking, anxiety, etc.   
> Also, this is a long ass chapter. Thanks for kudos and comments! Please let me know what you think! I don't bite, I promise.   
> Enjoy!

Wren entered the police station with Connor and Hank, her hands buried in the pockets of her grey coat. She huffed, welcoming the warmth of the station to melt the cold from her skin.

Captain Fowler saw them enter from his glass office, stood and poked his head out the door. “Everyone, go into the rec room for a small announcement.”

Hank stopped in his tracks. He rolled his eyes dramatically, turning his head to look at Wren. “He’s gonna introduce the newbies to everyone.”

“You seem thrilled,” Wren deadpanned. Hank let out a short humph in reply. Wren walked to the rec room, Hank and Connor following. Several people crowded into the rec room, lining the walls. Wren recognized two people from her tests the day before. The others must not have passed all of the exams.

Captain Fowler entered the room, peering at a tablet. “We have three new recruits. They passed their exams with exceptional marks. “Officer Crynn Bradford, you’ll be assigned to the narcotics and gang division. Officer Xavier Griggs, you’re assigned to robbery and juveniles division. Officer Wren Morgan,” Fowler glanced toward Wren, who straightened as every pair of eyes in the room looked at her, “you’re assigned to the sex crimes and homicide division. The three of you should know your partners, as we discussed it yesterday. Dismissed.”

Fowler left the room, as did most of the occupants. Hank folded his arms and peered at Wren. “Morgan?”

“Well, I couldn’t use Blaise’s last name or yours, could I? Had to make one up,” said Wren.

Connor’s eyes trained on something behind Wren. “This is not the best place or time to discuss this.”

Wren followed Connor’s gaze as three people approached. One of the men held out his hand. “Officer Chris Miller. Tina and I work the sex crimes unit. It’s a pleasure to have you.”

Wren shook Chris’s hand. “Glad to be here.”

Tina held out a hand. “Tina Chen.”

Wren shook her hand and offered a twitch of her lips. Wren looked to the other man, who bore a scar across his nose. He didn’t wear an officer’s uniform, marking him as a detective or lieutenant. His blue eyes narrowed as he held out a hand to Wren.

“Detective Gavin Reed. You’ll eventually work homicide with me, if you can take the heat.”

Wren lifted a brow and dropped Gavin’s hand. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

Gavin snorted. “We’ll see. Pretty girls like you… They don’t last long.”

“Calling me ugly?” demanded Tina, turning her almond eyes to Gavin.

The detective opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He clenched his teeth for a moment. “You know what I mean, Chen.”

“Uh huh,” muttered Tina, “stop being an ass.”

Gavin’s jaw popped as he tightened it. His eyes flicked to Connor, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “What’re you lookin’ at, tin can?” He pushed past Connor and marched over to his desk. Wren watched him go, her eyebrows raised.

Hank shook his head. “Ignore him. He’s not exactly a team player.”

“I see,” said Wren, folding her arms. She glanced toward Connor. He was usually quiet, but he had been unusually quiet since Wren took her exams to join the police force. His LED flickered as he met her gaze.

“Come on,” said Tina, “we’ll show you the ropes.”

“If we’re lucky, we’ll get a case,” said Chris. “I’m tired of sitting around.”

“Getting a case means some poor asshole has been assaulted, though,” said Tina. The two of them walked out of the rec room, assuming that Wren followed.

Wren looked at Hank and Connor. “Are you guys gonna babysit me here, too?”

“Shut up,” Hank muttered. “Just stick with them, got it?”

“Or what?” Wren challenged. “You’ll sic Sumo on me?”

“I’ll sic Connor on ya,” retorted Hank.

Wren’s eyes flicked to Connor. She had yet to see him in action, but she didn’t doubt the android’s capabilities. She huffed. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on making a break for it. I’m not an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Hank muttered. He sauntered over to his desk. Connor moved to follow him, but Wren grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Connor tilted his head, his indicator flickering. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re just quieter than usual,” said Wren. “Ever since yesterday.”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow for a brief second before returning to blue. “You should join the other officers, Wren.”

Wren released Connor’s arm, her chest tightening. “Right.” She walked past him, her brow furrowing slightly. She felt Connor’s eyes on her as she walked away. She caught up to Chris and Tina, who were sitting at their desks, an empty one across from Tina’s.

“What took you so long?” demanded Tina.

“Uh, Hank wanted to wish me luck,” said Wren.

“That doesn’t sound like Hank,” said Chris, grinning.

“Yeah, what’s the relation there?” Tina prompted, leaning forward.

“I dated his ex’s nephew for a while,” replied Wren. “Blaise.”

“Ex… As in, his ex- _wife_?” Chris leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if Hank could hear them from across the precinct.

“Yeah,” muttered Wren.

Chris leaned back, his eyebrows raised. “Wow. So you knew him before everything with Cole?”

“Yeah,” said Wren, her stomach twisting. “But, uh, no one really likes talking about it, okay?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, for sure. Sorry.”

“Hank’s a legend,” explained Tina. Her eyes slid in the direction of Hank’s desk. “Or, he was, before… Y’know. I think he’s getting better, slowly but surely. I didn’t know him before he went off the rails.”

“Gotcha,” murmured Wren. “I always respected him. We weren’t exactly close, but… I don’t know. Somehow I knew he’d help me when I came to Detroit.” The lies fell from Wren’s lips smoothly.

“What brought you to Detroit?” Tina queried, looking at her terminal.

“Well, my P.I. business wasn’t doing well, and I’ve always been interested in androids. I knew Detroit would allow me to work closer with them,” Wren answered.

“An android sympathizer,” said Chris, nodding slowly.

Wren tilted her head. “Are you not?”

“I wasn’t… at first,” Chris admitted. “But then one of them spared my life, even after I killed several of them. I dunno. Changed my perspective a bit.”

“No kidding,” said Wren, her eyebrows shooting up. She looked at Tina. “What about you?”

“I don’t really care,” said Tina. “They haven’t really given me a reason to dislike them, but I’m not about to join any marches for them or anything.”

“It kind of changes things when you know an android, too,” said Chris. “I’ve worked a few crime scenes with Connor now. He’s not a bad guy.”

“Ugh, he’s so _boring_ ,” Tina’s face wrinkled.

Wren lifted a brow. “Boring?”

“He’s just… He’s one of those guys whose nice, no matter what. Like, you could spill coffee on him, and he’d apologize to _you_ ,” Tina explained.

“He’s boring because he’s… nice?” Wren offered Tina a confused smile.

“So if he punched you in the face, you’d like him?” Chris added.

“No,” grumbled Tina, “he’s just… blank, you know? He doesn’t really talk to anyone here. He doesn’t share things. He’s not super expressive… He just sticks with Hank.”

“Well, have you talked to him?” Chris challenged.

Tina frowned. “No.”

“He’s not boring,” Wren stated, “he’s just… reserved.”

“Oh, _mysterious_ ,” remarked Tina, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Well, he’s not exactly you’re type,” said Chris. He sniggered. “He’s probably Ken Dolling it down there, anyway.”

Wren hissed a laugh. She buried her face in her hands, warmth spreading up her neck. She shook her head and opened her terminal. She tried logging in.

**Warning: System Admin Approval Required.**

She frowned. “Guess Fowler hasn’t let me into the system yet.”

Tina leaned over her desk to look at Wren’s terminal. “Yep. Wait until tomorrow. If he hasn’t let you in by the end of the week, you’ll have to remind him.” She sat back into her chair.

“You can just use ours for now. Any info we get, we’ll show you. But… We don’t even have a case right now,” Chris shrugged.

“That’s a good problem to have, though,” Wren pointed out. “At least no one’s getting murdered or… worse.”

“That we know about,” Chris countered.

“Touché.”

“Officers?”

Wren glanced up to see a male android, a AP700 model. He clasped his hands in front of him. A woman stood a few feet behind him, clutching the strap of her purse with both hands.

“Hey, Casper,” said Chris, leaning back. “Got something for us?”

“I do,” said Casper, dipping his head. “This is Carol Baker. She didn’t make an appointment, but I saw that your schedules were clear. She insists that it’s urgent.”

“We’ll talk to her,” said Tina.

“Thanks, Casper,” added Chris. Casper smiled. His light blue eyes ghosted over Wren. He lacked an indicator. Wren offered him a small smile, which he returned before departing.

Carol stepped forward as Chris pulled up a chair for her. “You’re the officers who work the sex crimes?”

“We are,” said Tina. “Do you need to report something?”

“W-well, nothing’s happened yet, but, um…” Carol’s hands trembled as she reached into her purse. She withdrew several envelopes. “I’ve been receiving these over the past few years. I, um, used to live in San Francisco but I moved here…”

Wren accepted one of the envelopes that Carol passed around. She opened it, withdrawing a handwritten note. She exchanged a glance with Chris and Tina, who both began to read their notes. Wren lowered her gaze and followed suit.

_Carol,_

_You looked so beautiful today at the gym. I love watching your muscles tighten as you lift weights. It’s so sexy. I’ve been working out myself. Maybe one day we can work out together._

_I look forward to the day we’re together._

Wren looked up, a chill rippling down her spine. “You received these in San Francisco, too?”

“Yes,” said Carol, a little breathlessly. “At first, I thought that someone was playing a joke, but they started to get more personal and romantic… I didn’t know what to do. When I received a job opportunity here, I took it. I didn’t think anyone would follow me, especially after everything that’s happened.”

“I agree, it’s messed up,” said Chris, putting the note back into its envelope and handing it to Carol, “but we can’t really do anything until something happens.”

The color drained from Carol’s face. “Something happens?” she repeated. “So you can’t do anything until he actually hurts me?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but our hands are tied. I wish we could help,” Chris said kindly.

Tears filled Carol’s eyes. “Roy Harrington, 313-769-2275.”

Wren’s brow pinched. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s my fiancé. You’ll be calling him when you find me dead,” said Carol. She looked at the envelopes. “Keep them. I don’t want to look at them anymore.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the station. Coldness trickled from Wren’s chest to her stomach.

Tina looked up from the note. “There has to be something we can do. I mean… She’s still a victim.”

“It’s not even really a sex crime, Tina,” Chris reminded her gently.

Wren lifted the note on her desk and reread it. “What did your notes say?”

Chris sighed and lifted his. “ _Dear Carol, you always look so happy whenever you visit that little coffee shop. Have you tried the wedding cake latte yet? I have, and it’s divine. I love the way your eyes light up when you have your hands wrapped around a coffee cup. How’s your friend Allie doing? I know you treasure these breakfast dates with her. I look forward to when I can join them._ ”

Tina cleared her throat. “ _My dear Carol, you seem happy at your new job. I know you loved San Francisco. I know I’ll miss it. But Detroit is a wonder of its own, I suppose. You look stunning in that new coat, by the way. The pink really complements your brown eyes. It makes you look so soft, like a rose petal. It makes me want to brush fingers across your silky skin. I long for that day. Soon, we will be together._ ”

Wren read her note to them, then set it down. “This is really messed up.”

“Yeah, he’s a creep,” said Chris, “but we’re not supposed to do anything till something happens. It sucks, but it’s the law.”

“Stalkers don’t usually follow the person,” Wren muttered. “Usually, if the subject of their affection moves, they change focus to a different target. This guy moved across several states to Detroit of all places to follow her. I think she’s in danger.”

“Definitely,” agreed Tina. “The language sounds threatening, like he’s escalating. ‘Soon, we will be together.’ It sounds like he’s hinting at some sort of confrontation. He’s impatient.”

“Are either of you listening to me?” Chris tried helplessly.

Wren looked at him. “Do you think she’s in danger?”

“Yeah, I do, but…”

“Chris, I swear to all things sacred, I will smack you if you say we can’t do anything,” snapped Tina. “I don’t want to call this poor girl’s fiancé because we didn’t even try to help.”

“Look, I am not saying that I don’t want to help. I just don’t know how to do it,” said Chris. He rubbed his palms together as he leaned forward.

Wren looked at Tina, who stood and gathered the notes. “I’ll convince Fowler.”

Tina left them and entered Fowler’s office. Wren watched her, dragging her teeth across her lip. Chris watched with her. Fowler read over the letters, looked up at Tina, shook his head and held out his hands, palms facing upward. Tina gestured with one hand at the letters, her brow wrinkled. Wren examined Tina’s body language for a moment before looking at Chris.

“She’s dealt with a case like this before.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “I have no idea. She worked in New York before Detroit. Maybe she did, then.”

“She’s attached to the case,” Wren explained.

“Yeah, I noticed too,” muttered Chris.

Fowler rubbed his face with his hands before nodding at last. Tina snatched up the letters, exited his office and plopped down at her desk. “We’ve got the case. Wren, go ask Casper for Carol Baker’s number.”

Wren stood and left the bullpen of the precinct and found Casper at the front desk. She walked up to him and offered him a small smile. “Hi, Casper. Do you mind giving me Carol Baker’s number?”

“Certainly,” said Casper. He typed on the terminal in front of him before scribbling it down on a sticky note. He handed it to Wren. “You’re taking the case?”

“Looks like it,” Wren replied. Casper smiled at her. Wren returned it before walking back to Tina and Chris. She handed the sticky note to Tina, who dialed the number into the desk phone.

After a few seconds of silence, Tina said, “Ms. Baker? Hi, this is Officer Chen with the DPD. I just talked to my superior officer. We’re taking your case. Oh, you’re welcome. Listen, I need your home address. Did you keep the letters he gave? Some of them… Okay. Would it be all right if we come by your house to discuss this in person? Thank you. We will be right there.”

Tina hung up the phone. “Let’s go.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren, Chris and Tina sat opposite of Carol in the woman’s living room. Letters littered the coffee table. Carol’s eyes were rimmed with red and she sniffled every so often. She rubbed her nose and coughed to clear her throat. “I, uh, tried to keep as many of them as possible. I tried to get help in San Francisco, but the cops told me that they couldn’t help me until something happened there, too.” Her eyes flicked to Chris, who shifted beside Wren.

“Ms. Baker,” said Tina, “do you have the very first note he gave you?”

Carol shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. I threw it away right after I got it.”

“Do you happen to remember the date you got it?” Wren queried.

Carol thought for a moment. “It was June… June sixth.” She smiled bitterly. “The day after Roy proposed.”

Wren’s brow pinched. She glanced at Tina, who leaned toward Carol. “How long has this been going on?”

“Two years,” said Carol. “The first note was slid under my door at my office.”

Wren huffed. “So he knows details of your whereabouts at all times… Other than it being the day after your fiancé proposed, can you think of any other things that happened that day?”

Carol thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No… I don’t know.”

“Well this date means something to him,” said Chris. “You should come up with a list of everyone you started talking to on that date.”

Chris, Wren and Tina stood to leave. Carol walked them to the front door. Wren turned to Carol as her companions walked toward the car. “Look, keep the doors locked and keep your phone on you at all times. You have my colleagues’ phone numbers. Don’t hesitate to call, okay?”

Carol nodded. “Thank you.”

Wren dipped her head and joined her colleagues, sliding into the backseat of their cruiser. The drive back to the police station was rather quiet. They stopped for a late lunch.

“We could check by her old workplace to see if anything happened June 6, 2036,” suggested Wren.

Chris shoveled in a mouthful of fried rice. “The thing is though, nothing could’ve happened that date. It just means that it meant something to her stalker.”

“Yeah,” said Tina, “they could’ve bumped into each other on the elevator, or she could’ve bought avocado toast in front of him. Who knows.”

“Yeah,” Wren muttered. “So what do we do now?”

“Well, we wait till she gives us that list. We can’t really narrow things down until then,” said Chris.

“We’re doing nothing?” Wren demanded.

“What do you suggest we do?” Chris countered.

“Put security detail on her house?” Wren suggested.

“We don’t have a budget for that,” said Tina. “I had to fight just so that we could even take the case. Every decision we make from here on out will be monitored by the board. They’re not gonna like that we took this case. The only reason Fowler let us is because I convinced him that just because there’s not a body, doesn’t mean there’s not a case. But he can’t let us put security detail on her house or anything like that. Not unless something more threatening happens.”

“For now, we pray that nothing does happen until Carol gets that list to us,” added Chris.

Wren chewed on her lip but nodded. “Okay.” She rolled some orange chicken around on her plate before dropping her fork and looking at Tina. “If you don’t mind my asking, why _did_ you fight for this case?”

Tina froze. She set her fork down and folded her arms, staring at her plate for several seconds. “When I was a cop in New York, there was this girl who came to my division for help. She wanted a restraining order against her ex-boyfriend. We couldn’t do anything because he hadn’t done anything. A week later, homicide was trying to solve her _murder_. Her ex had beaten her to death. I didn’t want something like that to happen again.”

Ice feathered underneath Wren’s skin. She shivered. “And Carol said she didn’t have any ex-boyfriends…”

“Yeah,” huffed Tina. “Still doesn’t make this guy any less of a threat.”

“Definitely,” Wren agreed. “It’s awful how we can’t seem to do anything until it’s too late.”

“No kidding,” mumbled Chris. They finished eating in despondent silence. They returned to the precinct, brainstorming ways to track down Carol’s stalker, but they were stuck until they received Carol’s list.

Wren returned home with Hank and Connor, but did not talk to them. She helped Hank cook spaghetti, but remained quiet and thoughtful. She wanted to help Carol, but she felt trapped. The whole point of leaving Prometheus was so that she no longer felt that way.

“Wren? You alright? You haven’t spoken all day,” said Hank, casting Wren a sidelong glance.

She looked up as she strained the spaghetti noodles, steam billowing in her face. “Yeah… Just thinking about this case.”

“Could we help?” Connor offered.

Wren shook the strainer, draining as much water from the noodles as possible. She poured them back into the pot. Hank added the sauce and stirred it around while Wren retrieved bowls. She pursed her lips for a moment before uttering, “I don’t know. We’re trying to find a stalker, but… It’s hard to pinpoint who this guy is.”

“A stalker?” Hank queried as he divvied servings into bowls. Wren took hers to the table. Hank followed and sat down. “That’s… unusual. Did he do something?”

“Not yet,” said Wren, “but he’s been sending her anonymous notes for two years. She moved to Detroit to get away, and he followed her.”

“That’s creepy,” muttered Hank. “I’m surprised Fowler let you take the case, though.”

“Yeah, we had to fight for it. But I think this woman is in danger, but we’re at a standstill. There’s nothing we can do to prevent this guy from going in her house and hurting her. I just hate all the red tape,” Wren sighed, resting her chin in her hand.

Hank leaned forward. “Listen, kid. I know the red tape sucks. Sometimes, you can get by with cutting a little bit of it. Use your head before you go jumping into action, though.”

Wren nodded. “I know. I don’t think the stalker will just go in her house and snatch her up… His language in the letters is… almost romantic, like he’s courting her. I think he’s afraid of rejection, which is why he hasn’t tried anything yet. But his confidence is building. I just want to find him before he confronts her.”

“Keep working like you did today, and I’m sure you will,” said Hank.

Wren looked at him, the worry creases of her forehead softening. “Thank you.”

One corner of Hank’s mouth upturned.

**^Hank**

Wren helped clean the kitchen after dinner. Then, she nestled into the couch while Connor sat in the armchair. Wren opened up _Red Azalea_ by Anchee Min. She flew through the first few chapters, by which time Hank had drifted off to bed. Wren closed the book, her eyes dry from reading so much. She stretched her legs and glanced toward Connor. Her eyes widened to see his LED flashing yellow, his eyes staring off into space. His hands gripped the arms of his chair.

“Connor? Are you okay?” Wren asked, leaning toward him.

Connor blinked and turned his head toward her, looking a bit dazed. “I’m okay…”

Wren raised an eyebrow. “No, you’re not. Your LED is yellow and you look like… like someone hit you in the head, _hard_.”

Connor’s eyes darted around the room before the found Wren’s, his lips parting. His jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

“You know… trust is a two-way street. You guys want me to tell you my secrets so that you can trust me, but I’m just supposed to blindly trust you both? It doesn’t work that way,” Wren snapped.

Connor frowned. “I didn’t make the rules.”

“You didn’t exactly protest to them, either.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “You don’t share everything with us. You won’t tell us how Prometheus got you to obey them, other than they conditioned and programmed you.”

Wren gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt. “If you really want to know, they tortured me but sprinkled enough comfort and care in there that I was still loyal to them. I can go into the grisly details if you want, but…” Wren shrugged and worked her jaw. “There. I shared. Your turn.”

**˅Connor**

A scowl harshened the contours of Connor’s face. “I went to an abandoned residence yesterday. The owner used to torture and mutilate androids. Several of the bodies are still there.”

“And you can’t get the images out of your head,” Wren guessed.

Connor folded his hands together. He looked away from Wren. “You should get some rest.”

Wren frowned. Her heart sank a little. She laid down, wondering why Connor was suddenly distant. She twisted her lips. Well, it wasn’t like they were really friends, anyway.

“You can read any of the books Josh loaned me. Might help take your mind off things,” Wren stated as she settled into her pillow.

“Thank you,” Connor muttered. His voice lost its curtness with her, but it still seemed strained. She sighed as she closed her eyes. She knew how difficult it was to discuss things that induced anxiety. However, if neither of them wanted to try, then their alliance would remain fragile.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren, Chris and Tina worked on Carol’s long list of people for the entirety of the next day. They conducted background searches and handwriting analyses. But none of the people on the list crossed Carol’s life frequently enough or matched the handwriting. None of them fit the typical stalker profile, either.

Wren rubbed her forehead. “So, what? This guy’s just some nobody? How the hell are we supposed to find him?”

“Well, if he escalates to establishing more contact with Carol, we might can track him down that way…” Chris trailed off when both Wren and Tina shot him a glare.

Tina’s desk phone rang, saving Chris from a chewing out. She answered it. “Officer Chen. Carol? Whoa, slow down. Come to the station immediately. Bring them with you. And, uh, have Roy come here, too.” She hung up the phone.

“She got another note?” Wren guessed.

“Yep,” said Tina, “and a diamond ring.”

Carol arrived within the hour, the new letter and jewelry box in her hands. She sat down, looking quite pale. Wren examined her for a moment before standing.

“Carol, would you like some tea or coffee?”

Carol looked up, trembling slightly. “Uh, tea would be nice. Thank you.”

Wren dipped her head and headed for the break room, where she worked on preparing chamomile tea for Carol. Hank and Connor sat at one of the tables in the corner of the room, Hank munching on his packed lunch.

“Kid, you gonna eat today?” Hank called.

Wren stirred honey into the tea. “Later.”

“Or you could eat now,” suggested Hank. “It’s not good for you to barely eat and sleep. How many cups of coffee did you say she had?” Hank turned his attention to Connor.

“Five,” replied Connor.

Wren turned on her heel, careful not to slosh hot tea all over herself. “What, you guys are spying on me from across the fucking bullpen?”

“Observing,” answered Hank coolly.

Wren stared at them, her blood boiling. She stepped closer so that no one would hear her. “Maybe the two of you should focus on your jobs instead of constantly watching me, as if I’m about to go apeshit and attack everyone, or whatever you’re afraid I’m going to do. If you’ll excuse me, Carol Baker’s stalker just proposed to her.” She walked out of the break room, fuming. Jesus, they couldn’t trust her even in the heart of the fucking police station? She’d thought that maybe she was beginning to befriend them, but of course not. That would be too easy.

She handed Carol the tea and sat down at her desk. “What do we have?”

Tina handed over the letter, looking a bit pale. Wren frowned and looked at the letter.

_I’m tired of waiting. This was my great grandmother’s engagement ring, then my grandmother’s and then my mother’s. I want you to be my wife, but you insist on staying with Roy Harrington. He doesn’t really love you. Not like I do. And you don’t really love him. Stop pretending before I have to show you what I mean._

Wren swallowed. She ran her fingers over the back of the letter, feeling the depressions from the force of the pen. “He was angry when he wrote this.” She looked at Carol. “Did anything happen with you and Roy yesterday?”

Carol stiffened. “I… No, I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It’s relevant,” butted in Tina, “because this guy saw it.”

Carol lowered her gaze. For a moment, Wren thought she was going to admit something. Then, Carol stood. She set the cup down. “Thank you for the tea.” She left the station. Wren exchanged a glance with Chris and Tina.

“This guy witnessed something between the two of them… He’s gonna escalate soon,” said Chris.

“Maybe… Maybe they got into a fight,” said Tina, frowning.

Wren nodded. She read over the letter again. “That seems likely. The question is, what did they fight about?”

“We’ve gotta get Carol to tell us or else we won’t be able to help her,” said Chris.

“I’m going to stake out their place tonight,” said Tina, standing. “I feel like she’s in danger. If we can’t put official security detail on her, then it’s up to us.”

Wren glanced over at Hank and Connor across the bullpen. They weren’t looking at her, at least. She stood. “I’ll be right back.” She walked over to Hank and Connor’s area.

Hank looked up and scowled. “Are you done being an asshole?”

Wren tilted her head. “No,” she said coldly. “I’m staking out with Tina tonight.”

Hank and Connor looked at each other before looking at Wren. Hank shook his head. “Not a chance.”

Wren sighed and folded her arms. “Hank, this woman’s life is in _danger_. I’ll be with another officer all night.”

“I don’t care,” seethed Hank, leaning forward. “We don’t trust you to be by yourself.”

“So that surpasses this woman’s life?” Wren countered. Hank huffed and averted her gaze. Wren looked at Connor, who held her gaze for a moment. She folded her arms. “You guys don’t trust me,” she muttered, “but have you ever thought that maybe I don’t trust either of you?”

“We weren’t former assassins,” hissed Hank, looking around to make sure no one overheard.

Wren scoffed. “Key word being _former_ ,” she spat. She glared at both of them. “I wanted to start over. To clean up my past, to atone for some of my sins by helping people. I was scared when I first joined the two of you that I might be trading one prison for another. Turns out I was right.”

She turned on her heel and returned to her desk, not wanting to look at Hank and Connor.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, going over the letters and Carol’s case. Hank stepped into the living room.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not hungry,” Wren lied.

“The high levels of NPY in your system say otherwise,” stated Connor. His voice was gentle.

Wren glared at him. “How many times do I have to tell you not to scan and analyze me?”

“Look, starving yourself isn’t going to help that woman,” said Hank, crossing his arms.

Wren stared at the two of them and gritted her teeth. Her muscles quivered, itching for her to jump up and _fight_. She curled her hands into fists, her artificial nails digging into her synthetic skin. She felt the pressure but no pain like human hands and arms would feel. “I’m asking you both nicely to leave me alone.”

Hank shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He trudged into the kitchen and ate. Connor lingered in the doorway before joining Hank.

Wren returned her attention to the case, as if something new would jump at her. Her mind drifted. She knew Hank’s routine. So far, he’d proven to be a heavy sleeper. Connor posed a greater threat to her escape. She glanced over at the android. No doubt he could fight, but he wouldn’t expect someone like her to fight. Besides, she’d had plenty of training fighting androids, even combat-specific androids. Prometheus trained her well. She didn’t want Tina to stake out Carol’s house alone, and she certainly wasn’t going to sit around all night.

So, she waited.

By eleven o’clock, Hank had been sleeping for a good hour, putting him in the third stage of non-REM sleep cycle, the deepest stage of sleep before dreaming. Wren looked at Connor, who sat in his armchair, reading _Red Azalea_. She was surprised he hadn’t finished it yet. Usually it only took him a few hours –at most –to read an entire book. Perhaps he was rereading it?

Wren stood. Connor looked up, his brow pinching. “Where are you going?”

Wren held out her hands. “The bathroom. What, can I not shower by myself anymore?”

Connor frowned but lowered his gaze. He resumed reading. Wren entered the bathroom and locked the door. She turned on the shower and adjusted the showerhead so that she wouldn’t get soaked by it as she moved aside the curtain to open the window. It was an old window and the locks required quite a bit of force for her to move. She looked over her shoulder, stilling. She increased the audio input sensitivity. She couldn’t hear Connor, which meant he was most likely still sitting in his chair. She pushed up on the window. It didn’t budge. She added more force to it and the window scraped open. Wren froze, listening. She heard Connor stand and take a few steps toward the bathroom.

**/ / / / WARNING: DETECTED / / / /**

**[Time Remaining Before Capture: -00:03:45]**

Wren pulled herself through the window. She left it open to save time. She crouched and snuck around the house, keeping below the window. She paused, hearing Connor’s footsteps inside the house. She held her breath and listened as his boots knocked the hardwood floor. She heard him knock on the bathroom door.

“Wren?” he queried.

Wren mouthed an expletive to herself. She had time before Connor burst his way into the bathroom and found the window open. She moved along the side of the house, keeping quiet. She lowered the sensitivity of her audio input, as her own footsteps were deafening. She froze when the front door of Hank’s house opened. Shit. She hadn’t expected Connor to check outside without breaking into the bathroom first.

They stared at each other for a moment, both stunned. Then, Connor’s face darkened. Suddenly, he wasn’t the polite prototype detective android. Suddenly, he was a _hunter_. Luckily, Wren was a hunter, too.

They took off running at the exact same time. Wren sprinted away from the house and Connor charged toward her. Fuck, he was fast. And lanky. For every stride he took, Wren took two or three. His length gave him an edge over Wren, so he caught up to her fairly quick. He tackled Wren in someone’s front lawn. Wren twisted, readying herself to break free of Connor’s hold. He may have been fast and strong, even trained, but he hadn’t been trained like her. She could break free. She could incapacitate him enough to get away. But that wouldn’t earn his trust.

Wren surrendered.

Connor pinned her hands over her head and to the ground. “Where were you going?”

“I was going to the stakeout,” Wren panted.

Connor’s brow puckered. “You were sneaking out for that?”

“I swear,” Wren replied.

“And why should I believe you?” Connor demanded.

Wren rolled her eyes. The synthetic skin of her hand peeled away. She connected to Connor’s memory, transferring her own memory of the past several minutes to his processor. Connor’s LED flashed red for a split second. Then, it settled to yellow. His grip on her wrists loosened. A frown settled into the creases of his face.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” he muttered.

“Well, hurting you won’t exactly earn your trust, will it?” Wren challenged.

Connor’s frown deepened. “Why does that matter to you?” His voice was quiet and his eyes glittered in the dark.

Wren sighed and leaned her head back. Her breath puffed out in a small cloud of steam. “Because no one has _ever_ trusted me.”

Connor released her rather abruptly. He stood and held out a hand. Wren looked at it for a moment before accepting his help. They walked back to the house and circled around back, where Wren climbed through the window first. She shut off the shower and watched as Connor pulled himself through, a little awkwardly. He slid the window shut and locked it.

They stood in the bathtub, Wren’s arms crossed. Connor faced her, his eyebrows pushed together and his LED flickering yellow. Wren looked at the window. “Are you going to tell Hank to bar it?”

Connor narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. His jaw tightened for a moment and then he tilted his head. For a few seconds, Wren thought that Connor wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “Just don’t do it again.” He stepped out of the bathtub first, unlocked the bathroom door and headed for the front door, which Wren heard him close and lock. Trembling, Wren stepped out of the bathtub and entered the living room, where she plopped onto the couch. She laid down but didn’t bother turning off the light. The silence between them seemed to pulse like a racing, adrenaline-shot heartbeat. Wren rolled over, facing the couch cushions and closed her eyes.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Ms. Baker, are you sure your cat didn’t just wander off?” Chris sounded just as exhausted as Wren felt as she returned from the break room with coffee.

“No, my cat didn’t just wander off! He left these!” Carol yelled, throwing down photographs. Wren looked at them. Nausea bubbled into her throat. The stalker had sent Carol dick pics.

“Ms. Baker, we promise, we’re doing everything we can,” Wren tried.

Carol turned on her. “Are you? Because to me it looks like you’re not fucking doing anything!” The entire precinct froze. Heat prickled up Wren’s neck and tingled her cheeks. Carol ran a hand through her hair, tears in her eyes. “What use are you, anyway? One of you was even _there_ last night, and he still managed to take my cat and leave those disgusting pictures! Why isn’t anything being done to stop this?” Carol stared at them, challenging someone to answer. No one spoke. Carol grabbed her purse. “Unbelievable.” She stalked out of the precinct, her heels clacking against the tile floor.

Wren looked at Tina, who stood by her desk, paralyzed. “Tina…”

Tina’s eyes snapped to Wren. “Where the fuck were you last night? Chris has a baby, so he has an excuse, but you’re just crashing on Lieutenant Anderson’s couch! You could’ve helped stop this!”

Wren gaped at Tina, who did not wait for an answer. She stormed off, her skin blotched with anger. Wren looked at Chris, who mirrored her stunned expression. “She’s just… stressed… I’ll talk to her, okay?”

Wren felt the eyes of multiple people on her. Her skin burned and her stomach writhed. She bowed her head and marched toward the elevator, which she took to the top floor. She hurried down the hall and used the back stairwell for roof access. The burst of cold air soothed her prickling skin. She leaned over and placed her hands on her knees, heaving. Her blood throbbed in her ears. Why hadn’t she joined Tina last night? Fuck earning Hank and Connor’s trust, Carol’s life was in danger!

The door behind Wren opened. Someone took a few steps toward her before stopping. Wren straightened, albeit stiffly. She did not turn to face whoever stood behind her.

“This isn’t your fault, Wren,” Connor said gently.

Wren placed her hands on her hips. She let out a sharp laugh. “I should’ve fought you last night. I put your trust over Carol’s life. So yeah, this is my fault.”

The snow on the building crunched as Connor took a few steps closer. “You’re doing everything you can. Ms. Baker is just scared and Officer Chen is stressed. These emotions drive people to say or do irrational things.”

“I know how fear and stress work, Connor,” Wren snapped.

Connor stepped closer. Wren refused to turn and look at him. “I’m sorry, Wren.”

A frown pinched Wren’s brow and tugged the corners of her mouth downward. “For what?”

“For stopping you,” said Connor. “I understand how it feels to… to fail your mission.”

The boiling in Wren’s blood cooled. “This isn’t just some mission, though. This is a woman’s life.”

“You’re doing everything you can to help her,” insisted Connor, edging closer to her. Wren could feel him standing behind her. Wren said nothing. He could insist that she was doing everything she could, but it still was not enough. Connor shifted behind her. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Wren.”

Wren cracked. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes but she held them back. She turned her head, her hands dropping to her sides as she looked at Connor. His eyebrows lifted slightly, creasing his forehead in earnest. Wren managed a small smile. “Thanks.”

Connor seemed to relax a bit. “Is there anything I can do to help with the case?”

Wren shook her head, closing her eyes for a second. “No, just focus on your cases,” she sighed. She opened her eyes. Her lips twitched as she gazed up at Connor. “Thank you.”

Connor returned her soft smile and nodded. Wren pushed past him. He followed her back down the stairs and into the elevator. They parted once they reached the bullpen. Wren returned to her desk but glanced over at Connor. He met her gaze from across the room.

**˄Connor**

After several minutes of staring at the stalker’s dick pictures, Chris and Tina returned to their desks. Wren looked up as Tina sat down. “Tina, listen, I’m sorry I wasn’t there…”

“It’s fine,” said Tina. She sounded tired. She met Wren’s gaze. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You wouldn’t have been able to do anything, anyway. The cat went missing from inside the house. How he managed to sneak in there and go, I don’t know. He must’ve been waiting. You being there wouldn’t have done anything.”

Wren relaxed slightly. She frowned. “Wait, if you knew about the cat, why was she here reporting it?”

“We wanted it on record,” said Tina, “and she thought she saw her stalker at the dry cleaner’s this morning.”

“Wait, she saw him?” Wren queried.

“Yeah, while you were getting coffee, she explained that she recognized this guy that she’s seen around a lot. Just in passing. Said she’s sure she saw him in San Francisco,” said Chris.

“And before she freaked out, she was going to explain what he looked like to an android who could recreate his look on a computer. But… you know the rest.” Tina gestured toward the exit of the building with a sigh.

“Why don’t we go talk to her? We need that image because she’s the only person who knows what this guy looks like,” said Wren.

“Yeah, you’re right,” sighed Tina. She dialed Carol’s work number onto her desk phone. “I need to speak with Carol Baker. This is Officer Chen with the DPD.” Tina scrunched her lips to one side as she waited for the receptionist to transfer her call. After a moment, Tina frowned. She hung up the phone. “That’s weird. Carol didn’t answer.”

Wren tried to ignore the sharp twist in her stomach. “Try her cell.”

“I’m working on it,” said Tina, dialing the number. Wren and Chris exchanged a glance as they waited. Tina hung up the phone. “Dialing her home now.” They waited, the three of them holding their breath. Tina slammed the phone into the receiver. “No answer.”

“Let’s go,” said Chris, shrugging on his jacket.

Wren and Tina followed suit, jumping from their seats. They hurried to their cruiser. Tina drove this time, the sirens blaring. She ran red lights and swerved around cars, going well over the speed limit. It still took them nearly twenty minutes to arrive at Carol’s house. They jumped out of the car and hurried to the front door, which stood ajar.

Tina, Chris and Wren drew their guns. “Detroit Police, we’re coming in!” Chris yelled. He pushed open the door. The three of them entered, pointing their guns into open spaces.

“Carol?” Tina called. They walked through the foyer and entered the living room.

“Guys!” Wren cried, crouching beside Roy Harrington’s beaten body. She lowered her gun and checked Roy’s pulse. She relaxed.

“This is Officer Miller, requesting immediate paramedic aid,” said Chris into his police radio.

“Mr. Harrington? Can you hear me? It’s Officer Morgan with the DPD,” said Wren. Roy coughed and looked around blearily. Wren looked over her shoulder at Tina. “Get him some water.”

Tina nodded and hurried to the kitchen as Wren and Chris helped Roy sit up. Tina returned with a glass of water and helped Roy drink from it.

“Roy, where’s Carol?” Wren demanded.

“He… He took her. That son of a bitch has her,” Roy blubbered. His right eye was swollen shut. Wren looked at her colleagues, her heart dropping. She wracked her brain, remembering what Prometheus taught her about human behavior. She thought about the stalker’s language in the letters, how he believed he was courting her, how he had essentially proposed…

Wren widened her eyes. “Roy, where did you propose to Carol?”

“The Boat Dock and Fishing Pier at the Refuge Gateway,” said Roy.

Wren looked at Chris and Tina. “He probably took her there.”

Tina nodded. “It would mean something to her and he wants to replace Roy. That makes sense. I’ll call it in.”

“Every second we’re here, she’s alone with him,” spat Roy. “Go. Please. Save my Carol.”

Wren nodded and straightened. Sirens sounded as paramedics rushed into the house. Chris, Tina and Wren hurried to their cruiser. Tina drove, speeding to the pier. The cruiser screeched to a halt as Tina parked the car diagonally over a parking space. They jumped out of the car, guns drawn.

“DPD, get out of the way!” shouted Chris, waving his free arm. People jumped out of the way as Wren, Tina and Chris hurried down the pier. Wren scanned the crowd, trying to pick out Carol.

“Over there, at the boat dock!” she shouted, pointing. A large man held Carol at gunpoint on the boat dock.

Chris, Tina and Wren cornered him, guns raised. The man pressed his gun to Carol’s temple. She whimpered.

“You don’t wanna hurt her,” said Tina.

“You’re trying to take her away from me!” screamed the stalker.

“You hurt her, man. Look at her. You hurt her fiancé,” said Chris.

“That idiot doesn’t love her like I do! He deserved what he got!” screeched the stalker. Spit flew from his mouth. Carol sobbed as blood trickled down her face from an earlier wound. Wren figured she earned it in the initial kidnapping.

“Listen to me, you are hurting Carol. Do you really want to do that?” Wren queried.

The stalker’s face smoothed over. “It’s better than eternal separation.” He dragged Carol backward and jumped into the river.

“No!” shouted Tina.

Wren didn’t hesitate. She holstered her gun and dove into the water, Chris right beside her. The coldness of the water knocked the breath from Wren’s lungs. Her mind flashed with memories from Prometheus, darkening her mind as she swam toward the stalker holding Carol underwater.

_She couldn’t breathe, the water was too cold, it shocked her systems… He held her underwater. She thrashed, but he didn’t let go. Dark spots danced in her vision. Blood rushed to her head. She was going to die. She was going to die._

Wren pushed forward, shoving the memory back. She grabbed Carol while Chris grabbed the stalker. Wren swam toward the surface and gasped for breath. Carol struggled against Wren’s grip, so Wren let go.

“Swim to the ladder!” Wren yelled, pointing. Carol nodded and swam over to it, where Tina helped the woman out.

Wren swam to help Chris. The stalker’s arms thrashed around. He popped Wren in the mouth. Her lip stung with the impact, but she ignored it. She grabbed one of the stalker’s arms and forced it downward. Chris wrapped both of his arms around the stalker’s chest.

“Stop! Stop! It’s over, man!” yelled Chris, icy water gurgling in his mouth.

The stalker continued to struggle as Wren and Chris forced him to the ladder. As soon as they climbed onto the pier, Chris jumped onto the stalker and pinned him to the ground. He cuffed him.

Wren panted as she sat down, shivering. Carol sat beside her, shaking just as much. “I… I recognize him… H-he repaired my android after an accident…”

Tina sat beside Carol and rubbed her arm. “It’s okay. It’s over now. Paramedics are on their way.”

They sat on the pier, quivering. After several minutes, an ambulance arrived. They gave Chris and Wren thermal blankets. They took Carol to the hospital while Chris, Wren and Tina loaded the stalker into the back of their cruiser and returned to the precinct. Chris hauled the stalker to a cell while Wren sloshed her way to her desk. Her body shook violently and her teeth chattered.

“Jesus, kid, what the hell happened to you?” demanded Hank, walking over to her. Connor pulled up a chair. He pushed Wren down gently.

“H-had to jump into the r-river,” Wren explained. “He was trying to drown her.”

Tina walked over, followed by Chris. She looked at them for a moment. “Chris, Wren, get your asses home. You guys did good work.”

Chris nodded, but Wren remained seated. She looked up at Hank and Connor, still shivering violently. Connor’s brow furrowed. He kept his eyes on Wren but spoke to Hank quietly, “We should get her home, Hank.”

“Yeah, I know,” barked Hank. He dragged a hand down his face. “Go tell Fowler, Wren.”

Wren nodded and sloshed her way to Fowler’s office. He widened his eyes at the sight of her. Water dripped off her and dampened the carpet. “H-Hank and Connor are taking me home.”

Fowler blinked spastically. “Yeah… Yeah, go ahead.”

Wren dipped her head and left Fowler’s office. Her shoes squelched as she walked back to Hank and Connor. Wren left her now-soaked thermal blanket on her chair. She hugged herself as they walked out of the precinct. Connor shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around Wren’s shoulders before they exited the building. The cold air nipped Wren’s entire body. It hardened her clothes. Her skin burned with the cold. She couldn’t stop shaking as she crawled into the back seat of Hank’s car. He blasted the heat. For a long time, no one spoke.

Then, Hank cleared his throat. “Hey, Wren.”

Wren met Hank’s gaze through the rearview mirror. “Mmhm?”

The corners of Hank’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Tina told me what you did. You did good, kid.”

Wren clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. “Thanks.”

**Hank ˄ Neutral**

**Connor ˄ Warm**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! I've been working on this story's outline to clean it up. This is looking like it's going to be a long story, haha. Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! They're really heartwarming and keep me encouraged to keep posting this story! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

Connor watched Wren get out of the car, shivering violently. He frowned at her pale features and half-closed eyes. He increased his audio input sensitivity and listened to her breathing. It was slow and ragged. He glanced at Hank, who narrowed his eyes at Wren.

“You okay, Wren?” he asked, standing in front of the door, keys in hand.

Wren jerked a nod as she made her way to them. “Just… cold.”

Connor worked his jaw. Wren had told him not to scan and analyze her, but he felt she needed it right now.

**< <scan>> [Body Temperature: 94.5 degrees Fahrenheit] **

**/ / / /Warning: Body Temperature Too Low, Mild Hypothermia Symptoms Detected/ / / /**

Connor withdrew from the scan as if no time had passed at all. He looked at Hank, who unlocked and opened the front door. “Hank, get her some extra blankets and lay out dry clothes for her.”

Hank nodded and headed inside. Connor walked over to Wren and placed an arm around her shoulders. She pulled away, a frown at her lips. “What’re you doing?” Her speech sounded a bit slurred.

“I’m helping you,” Connor replied shortly. Wren relaxed slightly, putting much of her weight onto him. He guided her into the house and led her to the bathroom. She stood in the threshold, hugging herself and shivering. Hank joined them, Wren’s clothes folded in his arms. Connor took them and placed them by the sink. He peered at Wren under a furrowed brow. “Are you able to dress yourself?”

“I-I think so,” Wren breathed.

Hank rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I have a spare heater in Cole’s old room.” He left the hall and entered the room at the end.

Connor turned to Wren and gestured to her folded clothes. “Your clothes are over there. You need to get out of your wet ones.”

Wren nodded, though her eyes were closed. She stumbled back in the bathroom and swayed on the spot. Connor watched her for a moment, his throat constricting. Wren no longer shivered, but that only meant her hypothermia had worsened. Connor stepped out of the bathroom but left the door cracked. He trekked down the hall to Cole’s room, where Hank searched through a cardboard box. Connor looked around the room. It looked untouched, save for a few cardboard boxes on the floor. It looked as if it were waiting for Cole. Connor’s chest clenched at the thought. He cleared his throat.

“You should call Chris and make sure he’s taking the necessary precautions, as he is probably in a hypothermic state as well,” Connor announced.

Hank grunted in response. Connor backed out of the room. He padded back toward the bathroom and rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open. Wren had at least taken off her sweater, socks and shoes, but she still wore her tank top and jeans. She hugged herself, her skin appearing almost blue in the dim light of the bathroom. Connor stepped into the room.

“Wren, do you need help?” he queried.

Wren’s eyes slid open, but only partially. “I can’t move,” she said hoarsely.

Connor nodded and closed the door. He stepped closer to her. “I’m going to remove your shirt, alright?”

Wren nodded. Connor grabbed the hem of the tank top. The fabric was stiff with ice. Connor struggled to pull it over Wren’s head, especially since she could barely move her arms. He moved them for her and peeled the shirt off her. He kept his eyes away from her bare torso.

He cleared his throat. “If you turn around, I can unhook your bra.”

Wren turned her back to him slowly. “If you wanted to get me naked, Connor, you could’ve just asked.” Her humor came out in such a soft whisper that Connor scanned her body temperature in alarm. It had dropped another degree. He lowered his gaze and unhooked the clasps to Wren’s bra. She managed to pull it off herself. She hugged her breasts, even though her back was to Connor. His eyes drifted down her back. He did not breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched.

Thin, jagged scars traced down Wren’s back. It looked as if she had been whipped. Connor tore his eyes away from Wren’s scars and snatched up the thick pullover sweater. He turned it so that it would not be backwards on her and then pulled it over Wren’s head and stuck her arms through the holes. She turned back toward him.

“I have to unbutton your jeans,” Connor warned. He frowned. “Unless you can do it?”

Wren shuddered and lowered her hands. “I… I think I can do it. Might take me a while. Thank you, Connor.”

Connor dipped his head and backed out of the bathroom, right into Hank.

“What the fuck were you doin’ in there?” Hank demanded.

Connor blinked. “She can barely move, Hank. I helped her dress, though I think she’s able to dress the rest of herself now.” He left the hallway and entered the kitchen, where he searched the cabinets for tea. Hank only had coffee, but the caffeine would only release Wren’s body heat quicker. Connor opened the fridge and settled for milk. He poured it into a mug and heated it. By the time it finished, Wren stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in her sweater, sweatpants and dry socks. She padded over to the couch, where Hank had laid out extra blankets. She grabbed one of the fuzzier ones and wrapped it around her shoulders. She sat down, looking rather still. Connor grabbed the mug of warm milk and brought it over to her.

“You should drink a warm beverage to help bring your body temperature up,” he advised. Wren reached out and accepted the mug, though Connor did not release his hold on it until it sat in Wren’s lap.

“Thank you,” Wren croaked.

Connor observed her for a moment. Wren was still not shivering, implying that her body’s heat regulation systems were not functioning properly. He stood in front of her, weighing his options. He sat beside her, close enough that their legs and shoulders touched. He looked at Wren. “You need body heat.”

Wren nodded, her eyes half-closed. “I know.”

Hank sighed and sat on Wren’s other side. “No more jumping into frozen rivers, please.”

Wren breathed a shaky laugh. “What, you don’t like cuddling me?”

“Do I look like the cuddling type?”

Connor’s lips twisted as Wren chuckled again. He even caught the lopsided smile on Hank before it disappeared. Hank grabbed the remote and switched on the TV. He pulled up a streaming service and scrolled through movies. He settled for an action film. Normally, Connor thoroughly enjoyed movies. He liked to analyze the cinematography, and even theorize about the use of certain colors throughout the film. However, this film seemed shallow in its thematic quality. He frowned at the inaccurate portrayal of action sequences, even though they were rather enjoyable to watch. Halfway through the film, a weight on his shoulder brought his attention downward. Wren’s head rested on his shoulder.

**< <scan>> [Status: Asleep] **

**[Body Temperature: 94.9]**

Connor relaxed. It seemed that her body was regulating heat once more, judging by her renewed shivering. Connor removed the mug of now cold milk from Wren’s lap. He handed it to Hank, not wanting to disturb Wren. Hank placed the mug on the coffee table. He peered down at Wren.

“Poor kid’s exhausted,” he muttered.

Connor tilted his head. “She has these… _scars_ on her back.”

“Yeah?” Hank queried, turning his attention away from the movie to Connor.

“I think she might’ve been flogged,” said Connor, glancing down at Wren.

Hank shook his head. “Jesus… Every time I want to dislike her for somethin’, she goes and makes me feel for her.”

One corner of Connor’s mouth upturned. “I’m not certain that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” said Hank. They glanced at Wren before returning their attention to the movie.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor glanced at Wren as she sat at her desk. He and Hank were on their way out of the police station to work a case. A quick scan told him that Wren was running a slight fever, as was Chris. They both looked miserable, the ends of their noses red, their eyes bleary and their voices cracked. Wren rested her head in her hand and winced at a loud noise from a prisoner in one of the holding cells. She glanced up and met Connor’s gaze. She offered him a small smile, which he returned. He left the precinct with Hank, who drove them to the crime scene.

Connor crossed the holographic police tape and into the victim’s house. He crouched beside the victim and ran a quick scan.

**< <scan>> **

**[FACIAL RECOGNITION: Match: Gage, Flynn]**

**[CRIMINAL RECORD: Destruction of property]**

**[EAR WOUND: Brain trauma, deceased 19 hours ago]**

Connor straightened. He looked at Hank. “He was stabbed through the ear and broke the knife off in the canal.”

“Yeah,” said Hank, folding his arms, “that would do it. Does he have a criminal record?”

“Yes,” replied Connor, “for assaulting an android prior to the liberation. He paid a fine for it.”

“Alright,” said Hank. He looked around. “Do your thing, then.”

Connor obliged, scanning the evidence and reconstructing the crime scene. It appeared as though an android had been waiting for Mr. Gage to return home. The android waited behind a door and attacked when Mr. Gage rounded the corner. The android stabbed Mr. Gage in the ear, broke off the knife’s handle, dropped it and left the house as soon as Mr. Gage died.

“Connor!” Hank called from one of the back rooms. “Come take a look at this.”

Connor left the main crime scene and found Hank in the back study. His eyebrows raised at the anti-android propaganda on the walls. They were covered in posters of android slurs and manifestos to “clean Detroit of its plastic trash.” Connor’s throat tightened, though he was hardly surprised that anti-android groups remained in the city. He doubted the world would be free of anti-android groups entirely.

“This guy seems like a real asshole,” muttered Hank.

Connor tilted his head. “You were anti-android, once.”

“Are you defending him?”

“No,” said Connor levelly, “though I do understand where many of their hostile sentiments come from.”

“Doesn’t make their attitude right,” said Hank.

“I agree,” replied Connor. Hank patted his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s get to the station and go over the other victims.” Hank led the way out of the room. Connor followed Hank to the car. As they drove, his mind drifted to Wren. He wondered if her fever had improved or worsened.

“Can we stop at this store for a moment?” Connor asked.

Hank frowned. “Why?”

“I’d like to purchase something for Wren’s fever.”

“She’s running fever? Jesus, why didn’t she say anything?” Hank groaned and pulled into the parking lot of the corner convenience store.

Connor got out of the car first and waited for Hank. “I doubt she knew.” They walked into the store together, where Connor treaded up the aisles and picked out some medicine, tea and honey.

“But if she’s feelin’ bad, she doesn’t need to come into work,” muttered Hank as Connor used the self-checkout lane for his few items. He placed his hand on the scanner and interfaced with it, blinking as the transaction completed.

“Perhaps she felt well enough to work.”

They got back in the car and returned to the police station. Hank trudged to his desk while Connor stopped by Wren’s desk. He placed the plastic convenience store bag onto its surface. Wren frowned at it. She looked up at Connor.

“It’s for your fever,” he explained, “and I read that tea with honey helps a sore throat and increases body temperature in case you are experiencing chills. Officer Miller is welcome to it as well.” Connor nodded to Chris, who offered a thumb’s up in reply.

Wren set the contents of the bag onto her desk and crumbled up the bag before tossing it in the bin by her foot. She lifted her gaze to meet Connor’s, her brow still furrowed. “Thanks.”

Connor dipped his head. “You’re welcome.”

**Wren ^^**

He left Wren and crossed the precinct to sit at his desk, where he reviewed the prior victims in his new case with Hank. As suspected, the other victims were involved in anti-android discretions and possessed criminal records of assault to androids prior to the liberation. Hank dragged a hand over his face. “You think an android is out there gettin’ revenge?”

“It looks that way,” said Connor grimly. He tilted his head. “It’s odd for other androids to access police records. Androids have the ability to scan things, but facial recognition is reserved for advanced models, such as myself or intelligence models.”

“And those were all destroyed when deviancy became a threat,” said Hank. He frowned. “So that leaves you as the only android able to do facial recognition scans.”

“Correct.”

“So, you’re saying…?”

“I’m saying that for an android to have access to the criminal records of the victims, they would need to work in the legal system,” said Connor in a low voice.

Hank raised his eyebrows. “Great. So, we’re lookin’ for an android who recently got a job in the legal system… That should be easy.”

“We need to speak with Markus,” said Connor, standing. Hank followed suit with only minor protesting. “And we have the three victims to help us narrow down the search. If we cross reference them against new androids working in the legal system, we should be able to find a connection.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………Markus possessed no inkling as to who the killer could be, but he passed Connor and Hank to Josh, who was in charge of helping androids find jobs. 

Josh opened his terminal. “Unfortunately, quite a few androids have recently obtained jobs in the legal system, and I’m sure many of them would want revenge on humans who have harmed some of our people. But you’re welcome to take a look.” He stood and moved away from the terminal to allow Connor access to it. He quickly scanned through the androids listed. There were a hundred and seven names. Connor’s lips twisted. He cross referenced the victims against the list of names, but nothing appeared in the list. He huffed and leaned back, thinking.

“Nothing?” Hank guessed.

“Nothing,” Connor confirmed.

Hank sighed and folded his arms. “Maybe try running the names against the androids who were victims of our victims? Maybe our killer knew them.”

“Good idea,” Connor replied. He did as Hank suggested. The list grew narrower and narrower until one name appeared: Creed, an HK400 model. Creed had been hired to work in the Detroit Police Department archives, allowing him access to the victims’ criminal records. Connor looked up at Hank. “I found him.”

“Great. Where are we going?” Hank replied.

“The station,” said Connor, leaving the terminal with a nod to Josh, “he works in the archives.”

“Great.”

They returned to the station and trekked downstairs to the archive offices, where workers organized the computer databases. Connor and Hank found Creed’s desk, where the android sat at a terminal, researching someone named Tulip Shaw. Connor presumed it was Creed’s next potential victim.

“Creed HK400, you are under arrest for the murders of Flynn Gage, Charles Winthrop and Andre Brook. Please come with us,” Connor said.

Creed lifted his hands and stood. Hank cuffed the HK400 quickly. Creed turned and looked at Connor, who remembered Carlos Ortiz’s android –an android with no name. They brought Creed to the interrogation room and watched him from behind the two-way mirror. Hank sat in a chair.

“You wanna interrogate him? He might talk to you since you helped out with the liberation and all,” he said.

“Alright,” Connor agreed, stepping out of the room. He placed his palm on the scanner; his synthetic skin deactivated as it interfaced. The scanner glowed green and granted Connor access to the interrogation room. He sat across from Creed, the case file on the table.

“You don’t have any evidence,” said Creed coolly. “You need a confession.”

Connor tilted his head. “Actually, we linked you to the murders by reviewing your search history,” he bluffed.

**//^Stress Levels: 34%//**

“And we have a motive,” Connor said, leaning forward. The truth also raised Creed’s stress levels. Connor waited for Creed to say something, but the HK400 remained silent. Connor opened the case file. “Andre Brook, blitzed and then stabbed through the ear. This crime scene was messier. Your first kill.”

“I didn’t kill him,” said Creed.

Connor peered at the crime scene photos. He laid the picture of Andre Brook’s bloody body before Creed.

**//^Stress Levels: 37%//**

“Before the liberation, you worked as a caretaker android for a Ms. Linnea Hawthorne. You came in contact with five other androids quite often during your time with her, due to her friends possessing androids as well. They were your friends, weren’t they?” Connor kept his voice soft. Some part of him pitied Creed.

**//^Stress Levels: 43%//**

“On February 12, 2038, Andre Brook bumped into an AX400 model named Daisy. He beat her to the point where repairs weren’t possible.” Connor narrowed his eyes, watching Creed tremble.

**//^Stress Levels: 45%//**

Connor pulled out the crime scene photo of Charles Winthrop’s murder. “June 6, 2038, Charles Winthrop bashed in another android’s head. An HK400 model like yourself called Russell.”

**//^Stress Levels: 48%//**

“Please,” breathed Creed, “stop.”

Connor’s chest clenched, but he maintained a straight face. “October 23, 2038: Flynn Gage beat a KR200 model called Theta. He dismembered her and left her in the park with graffiti drawn on her body parts.”

**//^Stress Levels: 54%//**

“I looked into Tulip Shaw’s criminal record as well. You were researching her before we arrested you.” Connor tilted his head.

**//^Stress Levels: 57%//**

“She set another AX400 model on fire. The AX400 was named Audrey, right?”

**//^Stress Levels: 60%//**

“Please, stop,” whimpered Creed.

Connor leaned forward. “You were targeting Tulip Shaw, weren’t you?”

Creed looked up, tears in his eyes. “I… No.”

Connor’s mouth hardened into a line. “You joined the DPD just so that you could find these people responsible for your friends’ deaths.”

**//^Stress Levels: 62%//**

“Do you fancy yourself a vigilante?” Connor demanded, his tone harshening. Creed flinched. “You took the law into your own hands and murdered these people! You wanted justice, but where was their justice, huh?” Connor snapped, slapping the table with his hand.

Creed narrowed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Why are you doing this? You’re one of us!”

Connor scowled. “We fought for equality through peaceful measures. We fought for equality, and that means that we will be held accountable for actions _equally_.”

“They killed my friends!” shouted Creed. The interrogation room rang with his cry. Connor’s face smoothed into a neutral expression as he regarded Creed, who trembled and stared at his hands. “They killed my friends in terrible ways and no one was doing anything for them. _They_ didn’t get justice! No one showed them mercy. So I didn’t show their killers mercy.”

Connor looked toward the two-way mirror. He had his confession. He gathered up the crime scene photos and placed them back into the file. Creed grabbed Connor’s wrist as he reached for the third photo.

“What’s going to happen to me?” he breathed.

Connor frowned. “You’ll be tried for the murders.”

Creed lowered his gaze. He lifted his eyes to meet Connor’s once more. “You think that you’re free, but you’re still their puppet. You’re just a tool the humans use. You’re nothing to them. None of us will ever be anything to them.”

Connor pulled his wrist free of Creed’s grip and placed the final crime scene photo into the file. He closed it and stood. “You’re wrong, Creed.”

He left the interrogation room and joined Hank, who raised his eyebrows at Connor. “Good job, son.”

Connor’s insides glowed and he smiled. “Thank you, Hank.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor, Wren and Hank gathered around Connor’s terminal after hours to attempt to narrow down their search in Wren’s identity. An idea had occurred to Connor after interrogating Creed: Perhaps Wren was not her first name but her _last_. He applied the filter to their search, and the three of them waited with bated breath. Connor scanned the results, but Wren’s identity still remained a mystery. Connor’s shoulders sagged and his brow furrowed. The failure stung.

He looked at Wren. “I’m sorry.”

A smile masked the crestfallen look on her face. “It’s okay, Connor.”

“We’ll find you,” said Hank, standing. “We just gotta be more creative.”

The three of them returned home after picking up some dinner. They watched TV together and then Hank retreated for his nightly routine. Wren pulled her knees up to her chest and opened up _Waiting_ by Ha Jin. Connor had yet to read that one, but he finished _Red Azalea_. So, he picked up _The Innocent_ by Ian McEwan and began to read. However, his gaze continued to flick toward Wren. She had not turned a page in several minutes. While she was a slower reader than he, she was not _that_ slow. His brow furrowed as he observed her. She stared at the open book in her lap, a glazed look in her eyes. She pressed her mouth against her hand and furrowed her brow.

“Are you alright?” he queried.

Wren looked around and lifted her head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fantastic.”

Connor scowled at her. “I _know_ you’re lying, Wren.”

Wren frowned. “I wasn’t lying. I was being sarcastic.”

“What’s the difference?”

“One’s for humor, the other’s for deception. That’s a good question, though.”

“Lying for humor?”

“Essentially,” said Wren.

“I didn’t find what you said humorous.”

“Ouch,” said Wren, feigning a wince.

Connor frowned. “Wren. You’re avoiding the question.”

Wren’s façade faltered. She lowered her gaze. She was quiet for several seconds. “I… I think I’m remembering things.”

Connor tilted his head. “Remembering things? Like what?”

Wren closed her book and set aside. She hugged her middle. “It’s like… weird senses of déjà vu. Things will happen and it feels like I’ve heard it before or seen it… I don’t know how to explain it.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “What happened to trigger this?”

“When you brought the tea to me, I remembered… Well, _remembered_ is a strong word. But I got the sense that someone’s done that for me before.”

Connor lapsed into silence as he processed Wren’s words. It was not much to go on, but it was enough to trouble Wren. He had no idea what it was like to lose one’s memories and have them randomly triggered by certain events, but he figured that Wren knew better than he did when she remembered something. However, his lack of experience in the area left him woefully unprepared to offer the right words. His lips twitched. “Perhaps we should speak with a psychologist or neurologist about your condition. I’m afraid I can’t offer much explanation as to why you might be remembering certain things.”

“Maybe… For now, I want to wait, see if I remember more,” Wren replied, rubbing her shins.

“The fewer who know of your condition, the better.”

“You make me sound like a patient.”

Connor parted his lips and raised his eyebrows, heat tingling up his neck. “That was not my intention.”

Wren smiled. “You’re fine, Connor. I’m just teasing.”

Connor relaxed. Before he could respond, Hank left the bathroom and closed himself in his room. Wren stood and stretched a bit. She padded toward the bathroom. Connor watched her for a moment. Wren paused and turned, a lip curling her lips.

“Thank you for the medicine and tea,” she said. “It was really nice of you.”

Connor smiled softly. “I hope they helped.”

Wren nodded, her smile widening. “They did.” She paused for a moment and dragged her teeth across her bottom lip. “And… thank you for, uh, listening to me.”

“Of course,” Connor murmured. Wren dipped her head and disappeared into the bathroom. Connor’s lips curved with a small smile before he returned his attention to his book.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**_Congratulations to the New Officers!_ **

Connor’s eyes roved over the banner hanging in the sublevel gymnasium of the DPD station. The gym level of the precinct was extensive, complete with a boxing ring, weight room, a running track, obstacle course for parkour and a swimming pool. The precinct held a small pool party for the new officers, but Connor stood on the edge of the room, watching rather than participating. Hank stood by the food table, a cup in hand.

Wren approached and bumped him with her shoulder. She looked nice in a blue dress. She looked up at him. “Not getting in the pool?”

“I don’t own a swimsuit,” replied Connor.

“Neither do I,” said Wren. Her lips curved into a half-smile. “And I don’t wanna show off my tattoo or scars. Might raise some unwanted question.”

“Good thinking,” Connor murmured, his lips quirking. A yelp and a splash sounded. A senior officer just pushed one of the new officers into the pool. Connor tilted his head and pinched his brow as the other new officer received a sharp shove into the pool. Humans had odd rituals.

“Initiation time, sweetheart,” said Gavin, swaggering over with a grin plastered on his face.

“What?” Wren muttered.

Before Connor or Wren could ask Gavin for more information, Gavin scooped Wren up into his arms. Connor widened his eyes as Gavin carried Wren toward the pool. She kicked and struggled in his arms.

“Gavin, please! Stop!” she cried.

Connor frowned as Gavin laughed.

**< <scan>> [Stress Levels: 47%] **

He took a few steps forward, his brow furrowing as Wren continued to protest, her voice growing more desperate as they neared the pool. Her stress levels continued to incline, spiking drastically as Gavin tossed her into the pool. She screamed as she was in the air and hit the water with a hard splash. Connor stepped toward the pool as Wren resurfaced. She thrashed rather than swam toward the edge of the pool.

**//^Stress Levels: 71%//**

Connor heard Wren hyperventilating as she flailed backward. She bumped into the side of the pool and let out a yelp. Connor stooped down and grabbed her arms. He pulled her out of the pool and steadied her. Gavin approached, laughing. Wren stormed toward him.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” she shouted. She shoved Gavin back, whose smile faltered.

A few people nearby fell silent. Gavin chuckled and rubbed his chin. “It was just a prank, relax.”

“Oh, ha, ha,” Wren seethed. “It wasn’t fucking funny!”

Connor looked across the pool at Hank, who just noticed Wren chewing out Gavin. He began to make his way over to them. Gavin’s face darkened. “Jesus, calm down. I’m sorry I got your hair wet, princess.”

“You think this about my hair? Newsflash, asshole: I didn’t want to get thrown into the pool!” Wren snarled.

“Consider it hazing,” said Gavin.

“Fuck you!” Wren snapped.

“What’s going on?” Hank demanded.

**//^Stress Levels: 80%//**

“Princess here is freaking out because I threw her into the pool,” sneered Gavin.

“He had no right to do that!” Wren cried.

“Trust me, if I’d known you were gonna go all psycho bitch on me, I wouldn’t have done it,” Gavin spat.

Wren lunged at Gavin, but Connor grabbed her before she could get close to him. Gavin backtracked, his eyes widening. He held up his hands. “Whoa, calm down.”

Hank stepped forward. “Get the fuck outta here. You’re just antagonizing her.”

Gavin walked away, grumbling obscenities about Wren that set Connor’s teeth on edge. She jerked in his grasp. “Let go of me.”

Connor released her, but held up his hands, palms forward as Wren faced them. She avoided their eyes, her body rigid. Connor glanced down at her. Her soaking dress clung to her body, not leaving much to the imagination. Connor shrugged off his jacket. She flinched as he approached. He placed his jacket over her shoulders. She hugged herself.

“C-can you just take me home?” Wren muttered.

Connor looked at Hank, his eyes wide. Hank nodded slowly. Wren grabbed her coat and handed Connor’s jacket back to him. She slipped her coat on and shivered as they walked outside and got into Hank’s car.

The car ride home was intensely silent. Connor’s processor raced with questions. Why had the pool caused Wren so much anxiety? Was it even the pool that caused the anxiety? What triggered Wren’s reaction?

As soon as they entered the house, Hank rounded on Wren. “What the ever loving fuck was all that about?”

Wren folded her arms, shivering. “I… I didn’t appreciate what Gavin did.”

“Reed’s a dick, but it wasn’t meant to hurt you, kid. It was just a little hazing. It was all the other officers’ idea,” said Hank.

“I still didn’t like it.”

“You didn’t need to act that way,” said Hank.

**< <scan>> [Stress Levels: 52%] **

**[Warning: Body Temperature Increasing]**

“Hank,” Connor warned, “she should change out of her wet clothes so that she doesn’t get sicker. Her vitals show –”

“I told you not to scan and analyze me!” Wren yelled. Connor drew back and widened his eyes.

“Don’t you fuckin’ take this out on him!” Hank snarled.

Wren looked at him, her lip curling. “I’ve asked him not to scan and analyze me and he keeps doing it!”

“Oh, quit being a goddamn child! You don’t get to make requests like that, asshole. We don’t trust you, so if Connor wants to scan and analyze you till the cows come home, then he can do it!” Hank’s voice rang throughout the house. Connor parted his lips, but no sound came out.

The look on Wren’s face twisted Connor’s metal heart. Wren pursed her lips and stumbled back a step. “I’ve been here for over a month now. If I wanted to kill you or betray you, I would’ve done it by now!”

“Oh, that’s really fuckin’ reassuring.”

“Hank,” said Connor slowly, “she had increased levels of anxiety upon being thrown into the pool. I think she has traumatic memories associated with an event like this.”

“Quit psychoanalyzing me! You’re not my fucking therapist!” Wren snapped, her eyes sharp as she glared at Connor.

Connor looked at her. “I’m sorry, but I’m trying to diffuse this situation. Hank doesn’t understand why you reacted in such a way.”

“Don’t act like you understand, either,” Wren sneered. “You’re just analyzing little tidbits of information and putting them together like you know me, but you don’t. I’m not one of your fucking crime scenes!”

“Quit taking it out on him. He’s just trying to help. You’re the one who’s acting batshit crazy!” Hank snapped.

Wren looked at him with narrowed eyes. Connor watched her jaw tighten. A chill rippled down Connor’s back. There was something vaguely dangerous about Wren in that moment. Her body trembled and her hands curled into fists. She flexed her hands. The tension left Wren’s jaw, but her eyes were still bright. She smiled at them, though it looked almost feral. “Connor seems to have a good grasp on the situation. He can tell you why I’m so _batshit crazy_.”

She turned on her heel and marched to the bathroom, in which she locked herself.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super long, omg. Thank you guys so much for the comments and kudos! They give me life.   
> I start my first semester as a graduate student on Monday, so unfortunately, updates will slow. I'm working as a Graduate Assistant to pay for my education, so I'll be pretty busy. But I am still working on this, I promise! I love this story so much and am super excited about it, so I'm not going on hiatus or abandoning this or anything. Anyway, I'm rambling. I hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of domestic abuse, sexual harassment, etc.

_Wren pulled at the restraints around her wrists. Two androids, programmed as operatives, stood on either side of a human supervisor. The human male clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head as he examined Wren._

_“If, in the event that you are captured, you must withstand any torture. CY001, confirm that you understand.”_

_“Understood,” Wren croaked. They had not fed her in three days. Her head spun and nausea riddled her insides._

_“CY001, your objective is to withhold and deny information. Understood?”_

_“Affirmative,” Wren muttered._

_The man smiled. He looked to the two androids. “Sicilian 003 and Sicilian 006, your objectives are to attain CY001’s information, by any means necessary. Understood?”_

_The two androids, Sicilian models, nodded in unison. “Understood.”_

_They stepped forward, 003 withdrawing a baton. Wren’s heart jumped to her throat. The pulse in her neck fluttered, twitching her skin. She curled her hands into fists. The other android withdrew a towel. Wren’s mouth dried._

_“Who do you work for?” demanded 003. Wren clenched her teeth and remained silent. Sicilian 003 waited for three seconds before 006 placed the towel against Wren’s head. Sicilian 003 hit Wren with the baton. Pain spiked through Wren’s skull and she cried out. The room tilted as the spike ebbed into a throbbing ache. Her vision blurred._

_“Who do you work for?” said 003. Wren gripped the arms of her chair, her heart nearly exploding in her chest. She kept her silence._

_Sicilian 006 placed the towel on the back of Wren’s head. It did nothing to soften the blow when 003 hit her with the baton. Her vision darkened and she slumped in her chair, just barely conscious._

_“Excellent,” purred her supervisor. She heard his footsteps circle her. “Sicilian 006, scan and analyze her. I want a report on her vitals.”_

_“Understood,” said 006. Silence permeated the room as 006 scanned and analyzed her. “Her stress levels have reached 76%. Her heart rate has reached an abnormally high rate, though she is flitting in and out of consciousness.”_

_“I see,” hummed Wren’s supervisor. “003, scan and analyze her processor. Report activity.”_

_“Understood,” said 003. The android grabbed Wren’s forearms. Her synthetic skin deactivated as the android probed her processor. She felt his presence within her mind. He probed her memory, searching for hints of weakness during the brief torture._

**_I am CY001, loyal to Prometheus. They will not break me. They cannot break me. I am their weapon, and I cannot break._ **

_003 seemed satisfied with Wren’s thoughts and withdrew from her mind. “She endured the torture without breaking, sir. She is loyal.”_

_The supervisor snorted softly. “We will see. Bring her here.”_

_The two androids removed Wren’s restraints from her wrists and ankles. She forced herself to open her eyes, but the room spun as the two androids grabbed her from under her armpits. They dragged her to the other end of the room and dropped her on the floor._

_“Restrain her,” said the supervisor._

_Wren peered through her lashes as 003 lifted Wren’s arms over her head. 006 tugged down on the set of chains hanging above their heads. At the end of the chains were a set of cuffs, which 006 used to restrain Wren. She pried her eyes open. The supervisor turned a wheel, which tightened the chains, forcing Wren’s arms over her head. The supervisor continued to turn the wheel until Wren stood, though she leaned heavily against her restraints, her knees too weak to hold her upright._

_“Sicilian 003 and Sicilian 006, obtain CY001’s information. Understood?”_

_“Understood.”_

_003 grabbed a fistful of Wren’s hair and jerked her head back. A whimper escaped her lips. 006 placed the bloodied rag over Wren’s face. He left her side and picked something up. His boots clacked against the concrete floor. Wren heard water sloshing in a bucket. 003’s grip tightened in Wren’s hair._

_“Who do you work for?” he demanded in her ear. Wren’s heart slammed against her ribs, but she maintained her silence._

**_I am CY001._ **

_Icy water poured over her face. She gasped at the coldness, and water filled her mouth and nostrils. Her sinuses burned and she choked. She was drowning, but could not drown._

**_I am loyal._ **

_She couldn’t breathe._

**_My name is CY001._ **

_She was going to die._

**_I am loyal to Prometheus._ **

_She tried to cough, but only swallowed more water. Her lungs burned and her body seized as she choked._

**_They want to find my breaking point._ **

_Her knees sagged. Her body was shutting down to preserve her._

**_They will not find it._ **

_Darkness creeped over her._

**_I… cannot… break…_ **

_Wren woke to a sharp kick in the stomach. She rolled over and vomited up the water. It poured out of her nose, too. She coughed and spluttered, barely registering that she had been lowered to the floor._

_“006, scan and analyze her vitals.”_

_Wren listened to the report of her vitals. It didn’t take an android to know that she could not handle much more of this._

_“003, probe her memory.”_

_The android gripped her forearm and forced his way into her processor. She felt his presence, digging his way into the folds of her mechanical mind to view her experience in static. When he withdrew, she felt violated, even dirty._

_003 presented a positive report._

_“Restrain her. We will try again.”_

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren gripped the edges of the sink, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to force the memory back into the depths of her mind. Her body trembled and her breaths heaved from her lungs. She had endured five days of torture like that. They had been careful not to break any bones, as she was supposed to remain beautiful to emotionally and sexually manipulate targets if need be. They allowed her a week of recovery, in which time Wren reminded herself that her name was not CY001. Her name was Wren.

She opened her eyes and forced herself to face her reflection. Her hair was the longest it had been in a while, reaching just past her shoulders. It hung limp around her face, drying crisply in parts due to the chlorine from the precinct pool. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her pallor seemed sickeningly pale.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, rolling from the balls of her feet to her heels and back again. She owed Hank and Connor an explanation, especially Connor. She owed him an apology. Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and opened her eyes once more. Wren stepped out of the bathroom. The house was oddly silent, save for movement in the kitchen. Wren scanned the area and detected thermal traces in Hank’s bedroom. It seemed Hank was pacing his bedroom, which left Connor in the kitchen. Wren had no idea why he needed to rummage around in the kitchen, as he did not need to eat. She padded quietly to her box of clothes behind the couch, picked out some loungewear and retreated back into the bathroom. She peeled off her wet clothes and dried off with a towel. Her skin felt cold and clammy, though not due to any fever. At least this time she was not hypothermic. She pulled on her dry clothes and stepped out of the bathroom once more. She nearly jumped out of her skin upon seeing Connor in the hallway. He extended his hand, in which he held a mug. Wren detected the aroma of coffee.

“The caffeine might heighten your anxiety, but warm beverages are often helpful in reducing stress, too.”

Wren softened and accepted the mug. “Is this a peace offering?”

“It can be,” said Connor, a small smile at his lips. Wren’s heart twisted. She wished Connor would treat her coldly. She deserved it after the way she treated him. Yet here he was, making her coffee and offering a smile. He offered her peace when he had done very little wrong.

Wren smiled and took a sip of the coffee. She suppressed a cringe. She despised black coffee, but she forced her cringe into a smile for Connor’s sake. They trekked into the living room, where Wren sat at the couch, cradling the warm mug. Connor sat in his armchair.

Wren closed her eyes. “Connor, I’m really sorry for how I treated you. I overreacted, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

She opened her eyes to try and gauge Connor’s reaction. He furrowed his brow. “You asked me not to analyze you, and I ignored your request. There’s no need for you to apologize.”

“You were just trying to help,” Wren argued, her stomach twisting. Why wasn’t he yelling at her? Arguing with her? He offered her comfort when she did not deserve it. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with you.”

Connor tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “What is it that bothers you about my analyzing you?”

Wren stared into the black liquid in her mug. “After they’d torture me, these two androids would scan and analyze me. One checked my vitals and stress levels and reported to whoever was supervising me. The other would probe my memory to make sure that no matter what, I was loyal.” Her lip curled and her brow pinched. “I wasn’t safe from them, even in my own _mind_.”

“I’m not in your head, Wren,” said Connor gently.

Wren looked up. “I… I know. I know you’re just trying to help. It’s just… hard to shake the memories and feelings that come with being scanned and analyzed… I remember the price of my failures… Even my successes were met sometimes punished. They wanted me to forget who I was completely, so they probed my memory. I was always terrified that they would find out that I remembered my name was Wren.”

Connor’s lips parted. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s not your fault,” Wren said, bringing the coffee cup to her lips. She sipped from it so as not to hurt Connor’s feelings, but _fuck_ , she hated black coffee.

“I will refrain from analyzing you,” Connor promised. “Or at least I will ask your permission before doing so.”

“I should be accommodating you,” said Wren, forcing down another mouthful of coffee. Maybe if she drank it fast, she wouldn’t have to let the taste linger.

Connor’s lips twitched. “It seems that you already are by pretending to like the coffee.”

Warmth tingled across Wren’s cheeks and she froze, the mug hovering in front of her lips. “Uh…”

“I noticed that you keep suppressing a gag,” Connor explained. “Is it too strong?”

Wren allowed a smile to stretch across her face. “Strong enough to make me grow chest hair.”

Connor snorted softly. A lopsided smile flashed on his features. “Then I suggest you quit drinking it.”

Wren chuckled and set the mug down. She tucked her legs underneath her. “It was thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Wren’s amusement faded. “I’m really sorry for how I acted, Connor. You’re free to analyze me whenever you want.”

A frown tugged at Connor’s mouth. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Look, I… You’re doing it to help, right?” She raised her eyebrows at him. He nodded once. Wren blew out a deep breath. “Then, I trust you.”

**˄Connor˄**

Hank’s bedroom door opened, and he padded into the living room. He scowled at Wren. “Are you done freaking out?”

Wren bristled. “Are you done being an ass?”

Hank merely let out a “humph” as he took a seat on the other end of the couch. “That depends.”

Wren looked at her hands. “I owe you both an explanation.”

“Damn right, you do.”

Wren suppressed a glower. She grabbed the coffee mug and curled her fingers around it. The warmth sent an electric current through her android limbs. “Prometheus wanted to prepare me for every possible situation, but they also wanted to test my limits, see where I was lacking and where I excelled. They put me through a lot of scenarios and tests to figure this out. There was one where… one of my trainers grabbed me and threw me into a pool of near-freezing temperatures. One of the other supervisors grabbed me when I was in the water and… H-he held me underwater. My objective was to escape, but… I couldn’t. I froze. I couldn’t move… I-I freaked out and forgot everything I was supposed to do. I ended up passing out and woke up in the infirmary… They told me that I needed to pass the test, even if I were sick. So, they pulled me out of bed and threw me back into that pool. I failed four more times before I passed the test. By the end of it, I was so sick that they canceled training for me for the next few days.”

A heavy silence met her words. Wren glanced toward Connor, whose LED cycled yellow. His brow furrowed and he avoided her gaze. She looked at Hank, who dragged a hand over his face. “Jesus, kid. I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t tell you,” Wren huffed. “You see now, why I didn’t want to talk about certain things that they did to me?”

“Yeah,” said Hank. He folded his arms and frowned at her. “Was your training always like that? They nearly killed you?”

Wren’s lips twisted. “It depended on the training.”

“What sorts of training did you have?” Hank queried.

Wren straightened and inhaled sharply. She stared straight ahead, unable to meet either of their gazes. “Seduction, withstanding torture, physical combat, perilous outcomes… They were very thorough.”

“Withstanding torture? You tortured people?” Hank demanded.

“No,” Wren gritted out, “they tortured _me_. In the event that I was ever captured, they wanted to ensure my loyalty. They waterboarded me for three days straight one time.”

“I’ve heard enough,” said Hank. Wren looked at him. Instead of disgust, she saw a glimmer of gentleness in his expression.

**^^Hank**

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren took a deep breath before approaching Gavin at his desk. He glanced toward her before returning his attention to his terminal. “The fuck do you want, psycho?”

Wren worked her jaw. “I want to apologize for my behavior.”

Gavin glanced over his shoulder at her. “For which part, exactly? Going all crazy bitch on me? Pushing me? Embarrassing me?”

Wren gripped her mug so tight that the contents within it jiggled. “First off, you pushed me. Into the pool, remember?”

“I didn’t push you. I threw you.”

“Whatever,” snapped Wren. “Secondly, I think I embarrassed myself more than I embarrassed you.”

“You are doing a stellar job at this apology, Officer Morgan. Really outstanding work.”

“Look, I, uh, had a bad experience with swimming pools as a kid. Someone threw me in and I nearly drowned,” Wren lied smoothly. “When you threw me in, it triggered my anxiety. I overreacted, and I’m sorry.”

Gavin was quiet for several seconds. He kept his back to her. “Whatever.”

Wren huffed and stalked toward the breakroom. She dumped her coffee and rinsed the mug out. She needed tea to calm her, not caffeine to heighten her irritation. She filled the mug with hot water and took out the box of tea bags that Connor purchased for her. She plopped one into her mug and waited for it to steep.

“Are you alright?” Connor’s voice sounded from behind her.

Wren turned to face him. “You saw that?”

“Yes, though I didn’t eavesdrop,” said Connor, walking toward her.

Wren leaned against the counter. “I don’t think he accepts my apology.”

Connor pressed his lips together for a moment. “Gavin has always been… difficult.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.”

A comfortable silence lapsed between them.

“Is something else on your mind?” Connor queried.

Wren glanced at him. “Yeah, I was thinking about how to narrow down the search for who I was.”

“How?”

“By expanding it,” said Wren. Connor’s LED flashed yellow. “Take my name out of the equation entirely.”

“That’s the only defining filter we have,” Connor argued quietly.

“Exactly,” said Wren, “and we can’t find me. I’m beginning to wonder if maybe… Maybe ‘Wren’ isn’t part of my name at all. Maybe I made it up so that I wouldn’t lose myself, but… I really did forget my name.”

Connor’s brow furrowed as he mulled it over. After a moment, he nodded. “It will increase the number of results we find exponentially. It might make it more difficult to find you.”

Wren’s shoulders slumped. She turned to her tea and removed the bag. Tossing it into the trash, she scrunched her lips together. She grabbed a spoon from a drawer and retrieved the honey from the upper cabinet. While she poured honey into her tea, she considered the possibility that perhaps she was wrong, and Prometheus had deleted her entire existence. It would be easy, if she were some recluse. If she’d had no friends and family, wiping out her existence from databases would not be a problem. She wouldn’t be missed.

“I’m starting to think that we’ll never find me,” she muttered as she stirred the honey into her tea. Someone entered the breakroom before Connor could respond.

Wren looked around and scowled as she noticed Gavin making himself a cup of coffee. “Oh, please don’t stop your boring conversation on my account.”

Wren pursed her lips as she met Connor’s gaze. His expression remained neutral, though she caught the flicker that passed over his features. “We’ll figure it out. I know we can solve this case.”

Gavin turned away from the coffee machine and folded his arms. “What case? Shouldn’t you be working with Chen and Miller?” He frowned at Wren. She lifted her mug to her lips and sipped her tea, not answering. Gavin narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose at Connor. “And shouldn’t _you_ be following Anderson around like a puppy?”

Wren lowered her mug and shifted so that she stood a little bit in front of Connor. “Shouldn’t you be fucking off or something?”

Gavin smirked. “You should be nicer to me, princess. We’re gonna be partners one day. Won’t be a plastic prick to save you from any swimming pools then.” 

Wren bristled. “Don’t call him that.”

Gavin chuckled. “Look at that, Connor. You’ve got yourself a guard dog.”

“Detective Reed, I suggest that you return to your desk before this gets out of hand.” Wren could not see Connor’s expression, though she was taken aback the iciness of his tone.

“And I suggest you put your suggestion so far up your ass that you choke on it.”

“He can’t, he’s already choking on your bullshit,” Wren snapped.

Gavin grinned and sauntered toward Wren, stopping when they were inches apart. “A pretty mouth like yours shouldn’t cuss like that.”

“Fuck you.”

Gavin smirked. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you princess?”

“Enough,” said Connor, moving out from behind Wren. “Gavin, you should leave before this escalates to violence. I believe you remember how well it went for you last time you tried to fight me, correct?”

Gavin scowled, but it slowly twisted into a sneer. “I look forward to working with you, princess.” He grabbed his coffee and left the breakroom.

Connor turned to face Wren. “I appreciate your defending me, but it isn’t necessary, Wren.”

Wren sipped her tea before answering. “I know it’s not. But, hey, what are friends for?”

Connor froze. He stared at Wren, his LED flickering yellow. Wren frowned, a sinking feeling in her chest. Connor parted his lips. “Oh.”

Wren’s frown deepened. “Was that out of line?”

“N-no,” Connor replied, his indicator still cycling yellow. It returned to blue after a moment, and the slightest twitch of his lips comforted Wren.

She dipped her head. “We should, uh, get to work.”

“Right,” said Connor. Neither of them moved for a moment.

Wren pushed past him first, the awkwardness thickening the silence between them until it was almost unbearable. She returned to her desk to work on some paperwork and reviewed some old cases. She paused on a case that Miller and Chen solved before Wren had even come to Detroit. A woman had been raped and then burned alive by her ex-boyfriend. Wren’s stomach twisted at the thought, but what stuck out to her was that at first, Tina and Chris had not been sure who the woman was. She’d been burned beyond recognition. So the coroner used dental records to find out who the woman was.

Wren leaned back in her chair, her brow puckering. Of course, she had no records that Connor could scan her for. But, she did have hospital records in Detroit, kept secret by an android doctor that Hank, Markus and Connor had convinced to maintain Wren’s secret. Her eyebrows lifted and she jumped from her seat to hurry over to Connor and Hank’s desks.

“I think I have a way to narrow down the search for me,” she hissed, crouching by their desks.

Connor leaned forward. “How?”

“When human victims are too decomposed or damaged to recognize, coroners check their dental records,” said Wren.

“Yeah, but we tried scanning you, remember? You don’t exist,” argued Hank.

“Not technically,” said Wren, bouncing. “I have hospital records in Detroit.”

“How does that help us?” Hank frowned.

“Because, CY001 doesn’t exist, but whoever I was before all of this does. Meaning I used to have medical records. If there’s some sort of anomaly in my body, we could cross that with the results we’ve found so far.” Wren looked between Hank and Connor, a grin spreading on her face. They did not quite share her enthusiasm.

“Kid, that’s assuming that you do have some sort of abnormality, aside from the obvious,” said Hank, leaning forward to balance his elbows on his knees. “What if you’re completely healthy, and so was whoever you were?”

Wren’s excitement faltered. “Well, it’s the best idea that I’ve got.” She looked to Connor, hoping he might offer some more encouraging input.

The corners of his mouth downturned. “Hank’s right. There’s no guarantee that you have something to identify you.”

“It doesn’t have to be any sort of rare disease. It could be something as simple as having Factor V,” said Wren.

“What’s that?” Hank queried.

“It’s blood pressure condition,” explained Connor shortly. His brow furrowed.

Wren sighed. “Isn’t it worth trying to look into?”

Connor and Hank looked at each other before Connor turned his attention back to Wren. He dipped his head. “Statistically, there’s always a chance.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice,” said Wren, taking a seat in Dr. Willis’s office. Hank sat beside her while Connor remained standing.

The android doctor dipped his head. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

“We were wondering if you noticed anything… abnormal about me,” said Wren.

Dr. Willis raised his eyebrows. “Aside from your mechanical enhancements?”

Wren rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, I didn’t word that well.”

“We’re trying to track down who she was, and we need help narrowing down the search,” interjected Hank. “Something that could help identify her, medically speaking.”

Dr. Willis pursed his lips. “Well, I would have to conduct further lab work to find something in your tissue and organs. But I did use an advanced X-ray on you because of your enhancements. After you were shot, you weren’t in critical condition or anything, but I wanted to make sure that we patched you up correctly. It takes more accurate pictures.” Dr. Willis opened up his terminal and interfaced with it. He turned the screen, showing Wren’s X-ray pictures on the screen. “Even after bones heal from a break, they still show the marks from it, like a scar. These marks are harder to see with a normal X-ray, but see that mark right there? That shows a healing bone.”

“I’ve broken ribs,” Wren said, shrugging. She frowned, leaning forward. “But… I don’t remember breaking that many ribs.” Her eyes traveled over the hairline marks on a few of her ribs.

“You’ve broken a few bones in your face, too,” said Dr. Willis.

“Really?”

“Yes, see that healed fracture on your zygomatic process? It looks as though it received treatment late, judging by the way it healed, almost as if its healing process was interrupted,” said Dr. Willis.

“Could she have broken that in a car wreck, though?” Hank queried.

“It’s possible,” said Dr. Willis, “but there are other fractures that make me question that theory.”

“Why?” Wren puckered her brow.

“The fractures all show signs of different stages of healing,” explained Dr. Willis. “Some of them are over a decade old. Others are newer.”

Wren’s mouth dried. “Over a decade? You’re sure?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Willis, frowning. “Most of the ones on your face and ribs are ten to fifteen years old. They’re almost undetectable.”

A lump formed in the back of Wren’s throat. She swallowed and looked at Hank and Connor. Their expression told Wren that they understood: The fractures occurred before Prometheus and before the car wreck. Wren looked back at Dr. Willis. “What do you think could have caused those fractures?”

Dr. Willis’s expression softened. “These breakages are consistent with those of domestic abuse victims.”

Ice struck Wren’s core. Her face slackened and her vision fazed. She seemed to hear through a tunnel. Domestic abuse? Her? How? She was a trained weapon! She was strong, she’d always been strong. How could she be a victim?

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Willis,” said Connor.

The three of them left Dr. Willis’s office, Wren still in a daze. She remained that way throughout the car ride. At the police station, Wren followed Hank and Connor mindlessly to their desks. Hank frowned at her.

“Shouldn’t you be working at your desk, Wren?”

Wren blinked at him. “Oh. Yeah. My bad.”

“I could narrow down the search, if you’d like,” Connor offered.

Wren looked at him, feeling lightheaded. “Sure. Yeah, whatever.” She turned away from him and crossed the bullpen to her desk, where she sat down and tried to focus on paperwork. But her mind continued to drift. Domestic abuse victim. Victim. She could take care of herself. She’d always been her own hero. Right?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren gazed out the window of Hank’s car. She brought her fingers up to her face and touched her zygomatic process. Her other hand splayed across her stomach, feeling her ribs. _Victim_. She couldn’t really call herself a stranger to being a victim. She was a victim of Prometheus, so to speak. But somehow, this felt different. She felt more violated. She had never trusted Prometheus, even if she thought that they were training her to save the world. Even though she agreed with their cause at one point, she never trusted them. Domestic abuse implied betrayal. Whoever did this to her, she had trusted. Maybe even loved. So why had she let it happen? Why didn’t she leave? Had it been a lover? A parent? Or maybe she had just been extremely clumsy?

“Wren, are you alright?” Connor’s voice pulled Wren from her thoughts.

She looked around. Connor drove, taking her to Jericho to return _Red Azalea_ to Josh. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been… distracted ever since we spoke with Dr. Willis,” said Connor. “We got what you wanted, a way to possibly identify you.”

“Yeah,” Wren muttered, lowering her gaze. She fingered the pages of _Red Azalea_ in her lap. “I think I’d rather have some rare disease, like my bones are slowly deteriorating or something.”

She noticed Connor look at her out of the corner of her eye. “Why would you want that?”

“I don’t,” Wren sighed. She leaned her head back. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be a past victim of abuse.”

“It’s quite a common occurrence,” said Connor.

“Unfortunately,” said Wren.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“And I know… I just didn’t expect it to happen to me. I can take care of myself. There have been men who’ve tried to take advantage of me before. But I dealt with them. I don’t see how I could’ve let myself, er, let _someone_ do that to me. I can take care of myself,” Wren said. She repeated herself to reaffirm her own beliefs, not Connor’s.

When Connor did not respond for several seconds, Wren stole a glance at him. His LED circled yellow. His eyes flicked to hers, and his LED flashed. “Maybe you haven’t always been able to take care of yourself, Wren.”

Wren clenched her jaw and turned her attention to the passenger side window. Her stomach writhed. “Maybe,” she allowed hoarsely. Anxiety twitched its tail within the confines of her ribcage. It dragged its claws up her throat and curved its back against the hollows of her chest. Her breath stuttered and tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she held them back. She cleared her throat. “I’m scared to find out who I was before all of this.”

“Why?”

“What if I’d been an awful person? What if I did horrible things, more horrible than the things I’ve done as Prometheus’s weapon?” Wren stared ahead, unable to look at Connor.

“I… I don’t think that’s true.”

“Then why is it so hard to find me?” Wren demanded. “Maybe it’s because I didn’t have friends, or family, and no one bothered to report me missing. Maybe I’m hard to find because no one cared to make a report.” The tears threatened to spill over. She had tried to block it out, to think positively, but each time they failed to find her past identity, a piece of her wall crumbled.

“Wren…” Connor trailed off.

Wren sniffled and blinked, hard. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t have the answers. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you.”

Connor parked the car in Jericho’s parking lot. He shut off the engine. Wren moved to get out, but Connor gripped her wrist. She looked at him, her brow pinching. Connor’s lips parted. “You’re not _dumping_ anything on me. We will find you.”

Wren’s lips twisted. “But… What if we don’t like what we find?”

Connor’s jaw tightened. He swallowed. “Then it’s a good thing you don’t remember your old life.”

Wren inhaled sharply. His words raked chills down her spine. She nodded and got out of the car, clutching Josh’s book so tight that her hands shook. They trekked inside Jericho, scanned through security and boarded the elevator. Wren avoided looking at Connor.

“You haven’t asked yourself the other question,” said Connor. His quiet voice sounded like a yell, shattering the silence between them.

Wren’s brow twitched. “What other question?”

“What if,” said Connor, looking at her, “when we find you, we _do_ like what we find?”

Wren turned her face toward him, lifting her chin to level her gaze with his height. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t remember my old life.”

Connor frowned. The elevator stopped and dinged, announcing their arrival. Wren stepped off the elevator first, not wanting to answer anymore of his questions. Even if she did like what they found, it wouldn’t matter. She couldn’t go back to that life, anyway.

They reached Josh’s office, where Wren brightened to see a friendly face, one that didn’t question her or knew of her nightmares. Or tackled her in front lawns. Wren’s lips twitched.

“Did you enjoy it?” asked Josh, his eyes dancing as Wren handed over _Red Azalea_.

“Loved it,” said Wren. She crossed her arms. “I can see why a deviant would enjoy such a read.”

“It is rather inspiring,” agreed Josh. He crossed over to his bookshelf and perused the books.

“Connor read it, too,” said Wren.

Josh glanced over his shoulder at Connor. “You did?”

“Yes,” said Connor. “I have read all the books Wren’s borrowed from you.”

“Oh,” said Josh, straightening. His eyes flicked to Wren before settling back on Connor. “If I’d known you liked to read, I would’ve leant you books sooner.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “I’ve only just discovered my appreciation for reading.”

Josh nodded. “Deviancy involves a lot of new discoveries.”

“Yes,” agreed Connor quietly.

Josh turned back to the shelf, found the title he was looking for, and pulled it off the shelf. He handed the thick tome to Wren. She looked down at it. _Paradise Lost_. She met Josh’s gaze. The android grinned. “Since you enjoyed mythology so much, I thought you’d enjoy that one.”

“Thank you,” Wren replied. “But I still have to finish _Waiting_ and _The Innocent_.”

“Just bring those to me when you’re done,” said Josh, waving a hand. “I trust you with my books.”

Wren beamed. “At least someone around here trusts me.”

Josh tilted his head, his brow puckering as a dazed smile curled his lips. “Are Hank and Connor still giving you a hard time?”

Wren smiled and shook her head. “Bad joke, sorry. Sorry I can’t stay to chat longer. Hank ordered pizza.”

“Shouldn’t keep him waiting, then,” said Josh. “No eating near my books, please.”

“Never,” said Wren as she backed out of the office, grinning. She turned on her heel and fell in step with Connor, heading back toward the elevator. They stepped onto it, and the doors began to slide shut.

“Hold the elevator!” called a person running toward it.

Connor’s hand jutted out and caught the elevator doors. They bounced back open and North stepped onto the elevator. She hit her number and turned, and widened her eyes when she saw Wren. North’s lips pursed as she stood on the other side of Connor, staring straight ahead. Wren glanced at Connor, whose mouth tightened. The atmosphere thickened, until the elevator felt particularly stuffy. Wren wondered if androids felt warm in uncomfortably awkward situations, too. She noted to ask Connor later.

The elevator stopped at North’s floor. She stepped off, but turned on her heel to face them, sticking her foot in front of the elevator doors to stall it. For a moment, Wren wondered if North was going to spit in her face. “Hey, Wren. I was gonna go shopping this weekend. You should… come. With… me.”

Wren raised a brow. “Are you sure? That seemed painful for you to say.”

“Don’t be an ass, just say yes or no.”

“Uh, sure. I get paid Friday, anyway.”

“Great,” said North, smiling without showing her teeth, “meet me here, Saturday at ten.” She wheeled and let the elevator doors slide shut. Connor and Wren’s descent to the lobby resumed.

Wren rolled her shoulders. “That was… weird.”

“Very,” Connor agreed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren walked with North through the Fairlane Town Center mall, neither one mentioning any stores they’d like to enter. Wren shoved her hands into her pockets and let out a soft sigh. It seemed this was going to be an awkward afternoon.

Wren sucked her teeth for a moment. “So, did Markus put you up to this?”

“He… told me to play nice.”

“Ah.”

Silence festered between them. Their pace slowed a bit, and North turned to look at Wren. “Look, I’m not used to people apologizing to me.”

“I can imagine,” said Wren. “I didn’t exactly make it easy for you.”

“No,” agreed North, “but worse has happened.”

Wren tilted her head at North. “Like what?”

North scowled. “None of your business.” She nearly spat the words, so Wren raised her hands in surrender.

“Okay, just thought it’d be good to get to know each other,” she said.

North snorted. “I said I’d play nice, but there’s no need to pretend to be friends.”

“I didn’t mean pretend,” said Wren quietly. “You know, we could _actually_ become friends.”

North stopped and looked at Wren. “Look, Connor and Hank are my friends. And honestly, you kind of threaten them. Josh trusts you because he knows you. Markus… Markus has always been more trusting of humans. But I’m not.”

Wren’s lips twisted. “A few humans were awful to you, so that makes every human bad, huh?”

“Uh, do you not remember putting a gun to my head? Shooting Connor?” North hissed.

“Hank shot me, too,” Wren pointed out. “And I said I was sorry. I was fighting my programming, remember?”

“It’s different,” snapped North. “You’re not an android.”

“Gee, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Going deviant is much harder for an android than it would be for you,” North spat, crossing her arms.

Wren glowered. “Androids don’t feel pain. And technically, I’m not human anymore. I’m a cyborg, and I feel pain. Breaking my programming _hurt_. But it’s not a competition, anyway. The point is that I’m sorry for what I did. I never hurt you. Connor forgave me for shooting him and I’ve forgiven Hank. And wasn’t Connor a deviant hunter? Didn’t he point a gun at you before? Or Markus?”

North’s lip twitched with a snarl. “Yeah, and I didn’t exactly forgive him so easily. He managed to break his programming and failed to catch a few deviants, which allowed them to get to safety. He’d been fighting his programming all along. But I didn’t fully trust him for a while, either.”

Wren folded her arms. “Maybe I’ve been fighting my programming all along, too. You wouldn’t know, because you’ve never bothered to ask. You just assume things about me. Before I even have a chance to defend myself, you’ve already made up your mind about me.”

North’s scowl softened a bit. She opened her mouth to reply, probably a sharp retort, but a man catcalled at her, silencing her. She looked over at the man, who trekked over, grinning.

“Hey, a WR400,” said the man, licking his teeth. “A _Traci_.”

Wren’s gaze slid to North, who seemed frozen. It immediately clicked for Wren. North’s aversion to humans, her stiffness about sharing her past, her confusion about apologies, her trust issues –it all stemmed from spending her life as a Traci, essentially a sex slave. Wren tensed as she faced the man, and a weird desire to shield North from the man’s lustful gaze overcome her.

“Sir, we were having a conversation before you rudely interrupted,” said Wren coolly.

The man glanced over her, his eyes glinting. “C’mon. I just want a few minutes. That’s her function, ain’t it?”

“No, it _ain’t_ ,” Wren snapped.

“C’mon, Traci,” sneered the man, “I’ll even pay ya. A dollar per minute. All of you Traci models have the best dick-sucking lips.”

North seemed to snap out of her daze. “ _Fuck you_. I’m not a Traci.”

“The hell you aren’t,” snapped the man. “I know a Traci when I see one.”

“Oh boy,” laughed Wren, folding her arms. “ _That_ is sad.”

The man’s eyes flicked to her. “It’s not sad. I-I know my androids.”

“Mhm,” said Wren. “I highly doubt that.”

“Look, this doesn’t concern you, Red,” said the man, shifting.

“Yeah, actually, it does. Because you’re harassing my friend here. And I don’t appreciate it.”

“I saw the two of you arguing!”

“Like I said, we were having a conversation before you rudely interrupted. Now, I’m sorry that your wife doesn’t want to fuck you because you have weird fantasies that you used to take out on androids, but in case you’ve been walking around with your damn eyes shut, androids are free now. Bye.” Wren stepped past the man, nudging North with her shoulder.

“Why don’t you go and fuck yourself?” spat the man.

Wren turned on her heel. “ _That_ would be more satisfying than this conversation.”

North snorted. They left the man, the silence between them crackling.

“I could’ve handled that,” North said after a moment.

“I know,” said Wren, “but I wanted to put him in his place.”

North hummed in response. She led the way into a store. The two of them shopped around separately. Anyone else would not have known they were shopping together. Wren huffed and wandered over to where North sifted through dresses.

“Sorry if I overstepped by talking to that guy,” Wren said.

North glanced at her. “It’s fine. I didn’t expect to be… recognized. I guess you know my past now, huh?”

“Not the details,” Wren retorted. “Everyone’s story is different.”

“Yeah,” said North, looking distracted.

Wren glanced at the dresses the android had picked out. “Got a hot date?”

North laughed sharply. “I wish.”

Wren tilted her head. “I thought you and Markus…?”

North frowned. “It’s complicated.”

Wren raised her eyebrows. “How so?”

North shrugged. “None of your business.”

Wren scowled. “You’re making this extremely difficult. It doesn’t have to be, you know.”

North pursed her lips and faced Wren. “If it’s so easy, fine. You share.”

“Share what?”

“Do you have any hot dates?” North sneered.

“No,” Wren replied, lifting a brow. “I don’t think Hank would approve. I’ve got a curfew and all. He trusts you, which is why he didn’t send Connor to babysit me.”

“What about Josh?” North queried, sliding dresses along the rack.

“Josh? I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. We talk about literature most of the time.”

“And Connor?” North’s eyes slid to Wren, who hesitated. North widened her eyes. “Well?”

Wren folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Liar.”

“He’s attractive,” Wren admitted, “but again, he’s my babysitter. I mean, we’re sort of friends, but it’s a weird dynamic.” She smirked and looked at North. “Your turn.”

North glowered. “Markus and I… during our fight for freedom, there was something there. But… There was something between Simon and him, too.” She lowered her gaze. “But Simon died. I felt like second choice for Markus. If Simon were still alive, I doubt Markus would be with me. We’re not even really together, anyway. We’re too busy.” She placed the dress that she had picked out back onto the rack.

Wren’s lips downturned. “Have you told Markus that you feel this way?”

“No.”

“Well, maybe you should.”

“He’s got a lot on his mind.”

“You don’t deserve to be second choice, and you don’t deserve to have your feelings toyed with like this.” Wren picked out the dress and held it out for North to take. “And I bet this dress looks amazing on you.”

North stared at it for a few seconds. Then, her lips twitched and she accepted the dress. Wren returned the smile. They headed for the dressing rooms, where North slipped inside one stall and Wren chose the one next to her. Wren took off her shirt and tried on one of the flannels she’d picked out.

“So, uh, who was Simon?”

“Oh,” North said, “he was one of the other leaders of Jericho.”

“How’d he die?”

“You kept up with the liberation, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you see the Stratford Tower message?”

“On the news, yeah,” said Wren. She widened her eyes. “Simon died there? But no humans were killed…”

“Yeah, but they shot at us,” said North shortly. “We had to leave Simon behind. He never came back.”

“You don’t know what happened to him?”

“Not really,” said North. “We asked Connor, but… He seemed pretty vague about it. He said there was a body, so…”

Wren frowned. She made a mental note to ask Connor about it. Wren stepped out of her dressing room and knocked on North’s door. The android opened it. Wren spread out her arms. “What do you think?”

“You look like a lumberjack,” North replied, lifting a brow.

Wren’s arms dropped to her sides. “Good. That’s the look I was going for, anyway.” She widened her eyes at North’s black dress. “Holy shit, you look great. You need that dress.”

North’s lips twitched. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” said Wren, grinning.

North failed to hide her smile. Wren’s heart warmed. North frowned down at Wren. “You need a dress. Try on the rest of your flannels. I’ll grab you one.”

She walked out, still in her black dress. Wren watched her go, eyes wide. She slipped inside her stall. She had no need to try on the rest of the flannels, as they were all the same size. The first one had fit just fine. She sifted through the colors, removing the “lumberjack” one from the collection and setting it in her discard pile.

“Here,” said North on the other side of the door, tossing a dress over it, “try this one on.”

Wren tugged it down and looked at it. It looked extremely small, but the fabric felt stretchy. She undressed and forced herself into the dress. She looked at herself in the mirror. It was extremely fitted and off the shoulder.

“Well?” demanded North.

Wren blew out a breath that puffed out her cheeks and stepped out of the dressing room. “It’s… tight.”

“It’s supposed to be,” said North. She grinned. “Uh, yeah. You need that.”

Wren scowled. “What would I wear this to?”

“A night out with friends,” said North. “Looks like you and I will need an event to wear our new dresses to.”

Wren’s eyes snapped to North’s. “You mean… You actually _want_ to hang out with me? Again? Of your own accord?”

North smirked. “Don’t be an ass.”

Wren’s grin widened. “I am _shook_ , and honored that the great North wants to spend time in my humble presence –”

“Shut up, asshole,” North laughed. “Come on, let’s pay.”

Wren grinned for the first time in… Her smile faltered. She hadn’t truly smiled in what felt like years. She changed back into her normal clothes and met North at the counter. They paid and went to the get Wren a strapless bra and shoes for her new dress.

When they finished, they called a taxi to take them back to Jericho and clambered into the backseat. Wren looked at North for a moment. “So, what’s your job at Jericho?”

“Oh,” North raised her eyebrows, “I help androids find help for their emotions. You know, send them to therapists who are willing to help deviants and whatnot.”

“That’s a good fit for you,” Wren replied.

North inhaled deeply. “Look… I feel like I have to say this. I know you’re trying to atone. And… I think you’re being sincere. But if you hurt Connor or Hank, I will personally make your life hell.”

Wren lifted her eyebrows at the sudden change in tone. “ _If_ I hurt them, you have my permission to make my life hell.”

North narrowed her eyes, but her lips tweaked upward. “I think we’re pretty similar, after spending a day with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Wren smiled. “I had fun, too.”

“I didn’t say I had fun.”

“Didn’t have to.”

North scoffed, but did not try to combat Wren’s comment. They arrived at Jericho, where Connor picked up Wren in Hank’s car. He glanced at the shopping bags briefly before putting the car into gear.

“Well, she didn’t kill you,” he commented. “And you actually shopped. I assume it went well, then?”

“Yeah,” said Wren, smiling. Her smile faltered. “Connor, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What happened to Simon?”

Connor glanced at her, his brow furrowed. His LED flashed yellow. He looked toward the road. Wren watched as his jaw tightened. “He died.”

“How?” Wren pressed.

**˅Connor**

He worked his jaw. “I found him hiding on the roof of Stratford Tower. I connected to his memory to try and find the original Jericho, and he shot himself.”

Wren’s chest felt cold. Her lips parted. “You felt him die, didn’t you?”

**˅Connor**

“Yes.”

Wren lowered her gaze. “You never told the others, did you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Connor let out a breath. “I couldn’t, all right? They accepted me, and trusted me, and I couldn’t tell them that I got their friend killed.”

“Connor… I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Wren pressed her lips together. “I keep asking you to relive things with my questions. You know you can ask me anything, right?”

“I don’t want to cause you any distress,” said Connor.

“I don’t want to do the same to you,” Wren replied, looking at him.

His lips twitched. “Yet you keep asking me difficult questions.”

Wren sighed and settled into the car seat. “I know. I just want to know you better.” When Connor failed to answer right away, Wren looked at him. His indicator flickered yellow. His brow puckered. Wren dragged her teeth across her lip. “Because, that’s how you become friends. Unless you don’t want that.”

“I think…” Connor trailed off, his indicator flashing. “I think friendship would be more pleasant than…”

“Whatever _this_ is,” Wren gestured between them.

Connor nodded. “Yes.”

They reached Hank’s house at last and got out of the car. Connor paused before the door. “You could tell me about one of your missions.”

Wren’s face paled, but she nodded. If she wanted to befriend Connor, she had to open up to him. “Yeah. I’ll tell you about one later tonight, okay?”

Connor dipped his head. “Okay.”

**˄Connor**

They entered the house to find Hank cooking. Wren raised her eyebrows and looked at Connor, who seemed surprised, but pleased. Hank turned as Wren entered the kitchen.

“Kid, we need to talk,” he said. Wren raised her eyebrows and folded her arms. “I think it’s time you got a phone.”

Wren laughed. “That’s what you want to talk about?”

“It’ll be easier for you to get in touch with Connor or me,” said Hank.

“And to track,” Wren countered.

“Calm down for a sec,” said Hank, lifting a hand, “don’t get so defensive. Jesus, you’re paranoid.”

“I didn’t say anything else!”

“I could see the look in your eyes,” said Hank, narrowing his own eyes.

“The look?”

“Yeah, the ‘they’re watching my every move and I can’t trust anybody’ look.”

“I don’t have a look.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, ya do.”

“No, I don’t.”

Connor cleared his throat, his eyebrows raised. Wren smirked at him before looking back at Hank, who clucked his tongue. “I’m thinking about giving you a bit more freedom, which is why you need a phone. It also looks suspicious that you don’t have one.”

Wren widened her eyes. “You’re giving me more freedom?”

“Well, you didn’t try to skip out on North today, and you haven’t ever tried to escape,” said Hank, shrugging. He turned back to focus on stirring whatever he was cooking. Wren glanced at Connor, whose features remained passive. Warmth tingled across Wren’s face, but she hid it.

“Right,” she said. She noticed Connor look at her out of the corner of her eye.

“So, we’ll get ya a phone tomorrow. And on Monday,” Hank turned back around, “we need to narrow down the search with the information Dr. Willis gave us.”

A lump formed in Wren’s throat. She cleared it with a cough. “Right.”

Hank’s expression softened. He crossed the room and placed a hand on Wren’s shoulder. “You need the closure, Wren.”

Wren gazed into Hank’s eyes, feeling a bit like a lost child. Her brow furrowed and her lips parted. She looked toward Connor, who wore a gentle expression as well. Wren swallowed and dipped her head. “Okay.”  


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Anxiety, mentions of abuse, (self-loathing, sort of?)  
> Aaaannnd I managed to squeeze out another chapter before I'm super busy! Thanks for the comments and kudos, you guys give me LIFE with your reactions to things that happen.

After Hank drifted off to bed and Wren finished her nightly routine, Connor watched and waited for Wren to tell him about one of her missions. He sat on the edge of the armchair, his hands on his knees. Wren cradled a cup of tea and sat cross-legged. Her hair was damp from her shower, hanging in wavy curtains that framed her face.

**[Wren//Warm]**

Wren lifted a brow as she observed Connor. “I said I’d do this, but it won’t be easy. But I know I’ve pestered you with questions, so… Here goes.”

Connor shifted. He considered telling her that he did not want her to be uncomfortable, but part of him –a selfish part –wanted her to continue. He dipped his head, encouraging her to continue.

Wren took a deep breath. “Prometheus had me work closely with CIA on a few cases. An agent named Rhett Anson was my partner. This was our first case together. We worked five cases in total. For this particular mission, we knew who our suspect was. Or, he fit our profile and much of the evidence pointed to him. So, the CIA and Prometheus paired Rhett with me, and our job was surveillance. We spent _weeks_ observing this asshole. Atticus Tremont. He was young, barely out of high school. But he was smart. Too smart. And angry. He was a messed-up kid, but that didn’t excuse his actions. He was targeting then-governor Atlas Montgomery. Our job was to figure out why and when. Rhett and I had a lot of downtime together.” Wren paused, the apples of her cheeks popping as she hid a smile. Connor furrowed his brow and tilted his head.

**< <scan>> [Elevated heartbeat] **

**[Increased core temperature]**

“You and Rhett were close?” Connor guessed.

Wren widened her eyes. “Oh, um… You could say that, yeah.”

Something that Connor failed to identify tugged at his chest. He shifted. “Oh.”

Wren’s brow pinched but she shrugged. “Anyway, we figured out that Tremont was going to attack a campaign party. He fit the profile for suicide bomber, or at least suicide by cop. We didn’t want to cause a panic, so we attended the party as a couple. Tremont threatened to blow the place sky-high if his demands weren’t met. He was standing next to Montgomery, a detonator in hand. He was strapped down with explosives. If his thumb left the detonator, we would’ve all been killed. Rhett and I tried talking him down, but Tremont was persistent. So, Rhett changed tactics. He started to antagonize Tremont and I moved closer. Tremont was seconds away from letting that bomb go off, so Rhett shot him. I grabbed Tremont’s hand and kept the button pressed on the detonator so that the bomb wouldn’t go off.”

Connor’s lips parted. “What happened?”

Wren shrugged. “Bomb squad came, disabled the thing, and… Rhett and I left. I… I don’t remember how I got back to Prometheus. I just sort of woke up in my cell there.”

Questions bubbled up his throat. He couldn’t choose one, so instead he gaped at Wren with his mouth hanging open.

“Are you okay?” Wren queried, one brow lifting.

“Yes,” said Connor, jerking his head. He frowned and averted Wren’s gaze. He wanted to ask about Rhett, but he did not see how it was appropriate. The details of Wren’s relationship with Rhett were none of his business.

“Connor? Your LED is yellow. And you look like you want to ask me something.” Wren sounded amused.

Connor glanced at her, his head tilting. “Am I… difficult to read?”

Wren raised her eyebrows. “The LED helps, because you don’t show emotion as much.”

Connor’s shoulders sagged and he looked away from her. “Oh.”

“But I’ve picked up on some of your tells,” Wren continued.

Connor glanced up. “My tells?”

“Yeah,” said Wren. “Like the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking.”

Connor’s lips twisted with a contained smile. “Oh.”

Wren narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “Was that your only question? Your LED is still yellow.”

Connor lowered his gaze. “It’s… unimportant.”

“Obviously not,” said Wren, lifting a brow. “But I won’t pressure you.”

Connor folded his hands and leaned forward. “Thank you for telling me about your mission.”

“I don’t feel like I revealed a whole lot,” Wren retorted, her eyebrows lifting. “I mean, it was kind of a boring one.”

Connor raised a brow. “It didn’t sound boring.”

Wren shrugged. “I mean, in that mission, I was… I wasn’t doing anything morally grey for the greater good.” She inhaled sharply, took a sip of tea. She stared into the mug for a few seconds. “I mean, my missions are an important part of who I am, but… I suppose the things that happened in between define me more. The decisions I made, the people I chose to save, the people I connected with…” She trailed off, her eyes distant. Connor narrowed his eyes, gazing at Wren’s features, from her cheekbones, to her chin, to her lips and finally to her eyes. She looked up at him, striking him with those dark blue orbs. “Rhett and I were on and off again. It was unprofessional, but… It was something that Prometheus couldn’t take away from me, you know?”

Connor frowned. What was his that CyberLife couldn’t take away from him? His coin. His friendship with Hank. Sumo. His job, his purpose… His eyes lifted slowly to look at Wren. “I understand.”

Wren smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, if that was… too much info.”

“I appreciate that you told me,” said Connor, offering her a small smile. She returned it. She ran a hand through her hair, mussing it over.

“I should get some sleep,” she said, standing. She took her mug to the kitchen. Connor listened to her clean it before drifting to the bathroom to brush her teeth. He leaned forward and picked up _Waiting_ , as he finished _The Innocent_ already. Wren returned to the couch and curled under the blanket. “Goodnight, Connor.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “Goodnight, Wren.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor decided he preferred working out in the field rather than sitting at his desk working on paperwork. It never took him very long, though he intentionally slowed his pace in order to fill the time. If he sped through paperwork too quickly, it left him sitting mindlessly at his desk. He worked on some smaller cases first, getting them out of the way.

Then, he came across Creed’s case. Connor read over it and wrote his report, though he could not help the clench of his jaw.

_Why are you doing this? You’re one of us!_

_You’re just a tool…_

Connor pushed a hot breath through his nostrils. He pursed his lips and gathered his brows. He gripped the edge of his desk tightly with both hands.

Hank lifted a brow at him. “Connor? You okay?”

Connor looked up. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words lodged in his throat. He swallowed thickly. Then, he shoved himself away from his desk and stalked away. His boots clicked against the floor. He’d been a tool before his deviancy. He had accomplished his mission of finding Jericho. Sure, he had chosen to spare androids along the way. The Tracis, Kara and Alice, Rupert, Chloe… But what about Simon? What about the countless androids he got killed because he led the FBI straight to Jericho? And what of the human lives he’d taken? The SWAT members he had killed to save Jericho, the CyberLife guards in the elevator… His hands were drenched in blood, both red and blue. He’d cost so many lives… As a cop, he was to bring both androids and humans to justice. But when androids killed in self-defense, or revenge, it left Connor in a world of grey. He’d seen humans kill androids for no reason. He’d seen humans kill androids out of fear and self-defense. There were monstrosities in both species, evils that needed to be brought to justice. And yet, Creed’s words rattled his mental processor: _You’re just a tool_.

Another thought struck Connor cold to the core: Did he deserve forgiveness?

**[WARNING: Systems overheating]**

Pressure built behind Connor’s eyes until they burned. He pushed open a door and a blast of cold air hit him. He gasped as he stumbled onto the roof. The snow had begun melting, giving way to spring, but winter still lingered in the air. He drew in droughts of breath to cool his systems. He did not remember deciding to head to the roof. It was an odd place for him to be, as he was not particularly fond of heights.

The door creaked and Connor heard another person step out onto the roof. He turned, his lips parted to explain why he was there, that he was fine, that he would return to work soon… But stopped when he saw Wren. They stared at each other for a moment.

Wren folded her arms, shielding herself against the cold. “Are you okay?”

Connor tried to speak, but his chest tightened and he _choked_. He tried breathing to cool his systems. His biocomponents felt as though they were quivering.

**[SYSTEMS CHECK: No abnormalities detected]**

He heaved and clutched his chest. He looked at Wren, his mouth still hanging open. “I-I… I can’t…” Couldn’t what? Even he did not know. He was not suffocating, but he imagined that this is what it felt like.

Wren held out her hands and stepped toward him. “You’re having a panic attack,” she informed him, resting her hands on him. One splayed across his back while the other rested on his arm. “Listen to me, Connor. You’re okay. Remember what I told you? Count down from ten and focus on different things around you. Take a deep breath with each count.”

Connor swallowed and nodded.

**Ten.**

The leftover snow on the roof was grey and slushy.

**Nine.**

The sky was grey.

**Eight.**

He could see the new Jericho building in the distance.

**Seven.**

Wren was wearing a black leather jacket with a royal blue denim shirt underneath.

**Six.**

She looked nice in blue.

**Five.**

Her lips were full and pink, though a little chapped.

**Four.**

Her eyes were bright blue, though dark.

**Three.**

Her head tilted toward his, her brows slanted in concern.

**Two.**

She was warm.

**One.**

She had a very light spray of freckles across her cheeks and nose, almost unnoticeable.

He frowned. “You… You have freckles.”

Wren’s eyes widened and she offered him a bemused smile. “Yeah, I do.”

Connor took one last, deep breath.

**[System temperature normalized]**

He relaxed slightly. He looked down at Wren. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Wren frowned. “You don’t need to apologize. Connor, are you okay?”

Connor pulled away from her and folded his arms. His brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth downturned. He considered avoiding the topic, but a jolt frazzled his circuits when he realized that he _trusted_ her. “Wren, can I ask you something?”

“You just did, but sure,” said Wren.

“Are we… Are we friends?” Connor asked, turning to look at her over his shoulder.

Wren jerked her head back as her eyes widened. She crossed her arms. “I’d like to think we are. Do you… Do you want to be?”

A lump formed in Connor’s throat. He nodded and breathed, “Yes.”

Wren’s lips twitched at the corners. “Then yeah, we’re friends.”

**[Path Unlocked: Wren: Friend]**

Connor relaxed, but Wren tilted her head. “That’s not what’s bothering you, though.”

Connor looked away from her. “No.”

“Then what is?”

There was almost _too_ _much_ bothering him. He looked toward the sky. The clouds curled together and shimmered, almost like the inside of an oyster. “I arrested an android a few days ago. He’d killed humans in revenge for what the victims did to his friends before the liberation. He asked me why I was doing this and told me that I’m just a tool that the humans use.”

“Do you feel like you’re being used?” Wren asked quietly.

Connor inhaled, then held his breath. He could have held it forever, but he released it after a moment. “No.”

“So, there’s something else?”

“Yes,” Connor murmured.

“Okay, I’ll shut up,” said Wren.

The corners of Connor’s mouth tweaked upward. “I told you that before my deviancy, I was the Deviant Hunter.”

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it some,” said Wren. “Shit, sorry. I said I’d shut up.”

Connor smiled to himself. “It’s alright,” he assured her. He turned to face her, his arms still folded. He looked at the ground. “The original Jericho was a freighter, harboring thousands of innocent androids. I led the humans straight to it and cost many androids their lives.” Connor paused, his throat swelling. He swallowed, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. Heat tingled up his neck. A warning flashed in the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. “Markus chose to trust me, and I infiltrated the CyberLife Tower and freed thousands.”

“I saw the broadcast.”

A metallic taste flooded Connor’s mouth. He wondered if that was what guilt tasted like. He gritted his teeth and worked his jaw before swallowing. “I…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t think I deserve Markus’s forgiveness. Or anyone’s.”

“Why?” Wren queried softly.

Connor looked at her at last. The pressure behind his eyes returned. “I got so many innocent androids killed. I got Simon killed. He deserved happiness. I was so focused on accomplishing my mission that I forgo many androids’ lives. I believed we were just machines, but I was in denial. Because I was… I was scared. I was _stupid_. I’m chasing down androids and humans who break the law, putting away murderers, but _I’m_ a murderer. I’m a hypocrite.”

His eyes burned, and his vision blurred. He knew androids were equipped with artificial tears, but he had never used his before. He blinked, hard. His vision cleared, but a tear slipped down his cheek. He raised his head to look at Wren, who wrinkled her brow. She wore a rather pained expression as she looked at him.

“I’m going to ask you something, but I’m not trying to change the subject or anything, I promise,” she warned. Connor nodded. Wren hugged her middle. “Do you think _I_ deserve forgiveness, after everything I’ve done? I’ve hurt a lot of people. Human and android alike. Some of them I didn’t even spare them the mercy of a bullet. Do I deserve forgiveness?”

Connor stared at her for several seconds. “ _Yes_ ” jumped to his lips, but he swallowed the word. If he admitted that yes, he believed Wren deserved forgiveness, then he would seem even more hypocritical. How could he forgive her if he could not forgive himself? But he could not bring himself to say otherwise, because he believed Wren was a good person. “Yes.”

“Why?” Wren questioned, tilting her head.

Connor blinked at her. He had not expected to explain _why_. Warmth spread across his cheeks. “Y-you’ve done so much to make up for what you’ve done. You’re trying to be better.”

“Okay, let me ask you this: Are you trying to be better?” Wren stepped toward him.

Connor gazed down at her. She was still a few steps away, but she was close enough that he could see the color of her eyes clearly. He licked his lips. “Yes.”

Wren nodded slowly. A small smile tugged at her lips and she stepped closer to him. “The thing about redemption and forgiveness, Connor, is that if you _deserved_ them, you wouldn’t _need_ them. But you’re a good person. You’re kind when you have every right not to be and you’re still trying to help androids and humans. You’re still here, making a difference. The fact that you feel you don’t deserve forgiveness just shows that you do. Anyone who has you in their life is a lucky person.”

Connor’s lips parted. He was speechless. Warmth flooded his biocomponents, but it was not the prickling, nauseating heat that choked him. This was… pleasant. Peaceful. When he spoke, his sounded choked: “ _Thank you_.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The rest of the day dragged on, with Connor more distracted than he had ever been. He continuously glanced across the bullpen at Wren, who sat at her desk working on paperwork. Eventually, Tina, Chris and Wren left the precinct to investigate a sex crime. Connor sat back in his chair, his shoulders sagging. There were cases that he and Hank needed to address, though they were all minor altercations. Hank insisted they catch up on their paperwork, trapping them at the bullpen. Without Wren there, Connor had no reason to visit the breakroom. The precinct suddenly felt emptier without her presence.

Connor huffed, trying to push Wren from his mind. His brow puckered as he continued working, though he noticed Hank glance at him every so often. As many filtered out of the station to go home for the day, Tina, Chris and Wren returned, all three wearing grim expressions. Connor glanced over at them, his eyes narrowing.

“We’ll pick up on this tomorrow,” said Tina. “Get some rest, guys.”

“See you guys,” said Chris. Tina and Chris walked out together as Wren folded her jacket over her arms and walked over to Connor and Hank.

Hank pulled two chairs up to Connor’s terminal. “Alright. Let’s apply the new filters.”

Connor glanced at Wren, who sat rigidly straight, her teeth peeking out as she bit her lip. She nodded to him. He applied “domestic abuse victims” to the search. No results found. Connor scowled as Hank sighed.

“Maybe… Maybe I wasn’t reported dead,” muttered Wren.

Connor frowned at her. “Wouldn’t Prometheus have wanted whoever you were to disappear completely?”

“Yeah, but disappear doesn’t exactly mean dead,” said Wren, raising her eyebrows. Connor nodded and removed that filter. Results popped up, but none of them matched Wren. Connor clenched his teeth and glanced at Wren. Could they really not find her? But Wren’s brow puckered, and her eyes darted around the room as she thought. She leaned forward. “Not all domestic abuse victims _report_ that they’re abused. Look for victims who have extensive hospital visits for broken bones.”

Connor nodded and added the filter. The database scanned the new information. Connor tensed, waiting, praying to rA9 that something appeared… There were eleven results. Connor sorted through them, looking for one who matched Wren’s description. His eyes widened. “I found you!”

He pulled up the records on the terminal to show Hank and Wren. The picture from Wren’s driver’s license filled the screen. She looked different, though only a few years younger. Her hair was much longer, and she wore a bright smile.

“I’ll be damned,” Hank breathed. “Your name’s Isabelle Wrenley Blanchard. You’re from Ellsworth, Maine… And you weren’t reported dead, just missing. They ruled your case as a runaway.”

Connor searched Isabelle Wrenley Blanchard’s records. “You have a criminal record,” he said quietly, with a side glance at Wren. The color drained from her cheeks. She dipped her head to him, encouraging him to continue. He opened up the records. Wren’s mugshot showed a completely different person. Her skin was sallow. Her hair was greasy and dull. Her cheekbones were far more prominent, revealing her unhealthily skinny state. “You were arrested for possession of Red Ice along with a Jonah Cage.”

“Jesus,” Hank muttered.

Connor tilted his head as he looked at another one of Wren’s mugshots. Her left arm was covered entirely in tattoos. There was a single tattoo on her right forearm. Connor glanced at Wren, who peered down at her arms. An entire history had been erased from her body, simply by amputating her human limbs and replacing them with robotic limbs. Connor looked back at the terminal and opened up the accident report. His eyes scanned the photo of the car.

“Holy fucking shit,” Hank breathed. Connor widened his eyes and parted his lips. The left side of the car was crushed. The front of the car crumpled. All of the windows had shattered. The passenger side door had flown off. Hank rubbed his face with his hands. “No wonder they had to amputate ya,” he muttered, “you’d have been paralyzed from that…”

“So why did they say I was a runaway?” Wren demanded quietly.

Connor frowned. She made a fair point. No human would have been able to walk away from a wreck like that. He scanned the official report. “Your body was never found. You were reported missing but presumed dead. They said that an animal must have dragged you off. The driver who collided with you was an android. The android was destroyed in the accident.”

“That’s why CyberLife must’ve found you first,” said Hank.

“And then Prometheus,” Wren muttered.

Connor continued through Isabelle Blanchard’s records. “You graduated from the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. You studied dance there. Your parents still live in Ellsworth.”

“You alright, kid?” Hank queried.

Connor turned away from the terminal to look at Wren. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open. No pink colored her cheeks. Her hands clutched the arms of her chair so tightly that her knuckles glowed blueish-white in the artificial light of the terminal.

**< <scan>> [WARNING: Elevated heartrate, core temperature rising]**

“I…” She looked between them, her mouth still open. She stood abruptly and walked out of the precinct. Connor knew she had gone to the roof. He stood to follow her, but Hank jumped up, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She might need some time, son,” said Hank.

“Her anxiety is reaching precarious levels, Hank,” Connor retorted.

“So would yours if you just found out all this,” said Hank.

Connor frowned. “Which is why I don’t think she should be alone.”

Hank sighed and released his grip from Connor’s shoulder. “Fine. I’ll wait down here… or in the car.”

Connor nodded and headed for the elevator. He withdrew his coin and passed it between his hands and rolled it over his knuckles. What was he going to say to her? What state would he find her in? His nostrils flared as he pushed a breath through them. He had no idea how to help her, or if she would even want his help. He just knew that he couldn’t leave her alone.

He stepped out onto the roof. It did not take him long to find Wren. She was sitting with her back against the brick railing of the roof. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her head was in her hands. She drew in haggard, panicked breaths.

Connor’s throat tightened painfully. He had seen Wren upset before, but not like _this_. He pinched his lips and tried to swallow, but the tightness spread to his chest and constricted his biocomponents.

**[Objective: Lower Wren’s stress levels]**

**[Probability of Success: 32%]**

“Wren?” Connor queried, bending slightly to peer at her.

Wren did not look up. “I’m fine.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “No, you’re not. Take deep breaths.”

Wren’s head snapped up. “Don’t you think I’m fucking trying?”

**[Probability of Success: 17%]**

“What about counting backward from ten, like you’ve told me?” Connor suggested gently.

Wren shook her head and buried her face again. Her body wracked with a sob. “I tried.”

Connor crouched, holding his hands palms forward. “Okay, it’s alright,” he assured her, “tell me how I can help.”

“Go away,” Wren begged.

Connor pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

**[Probability of Success: 22%]**

“What else do you do when you’re anxious?” Connor queried.

Wren trembled. “I… I distract myself.” Her breath continued in heaves.

Connor needed to lower Wren’s heartrate. Her quick, shallow breaths could cause lightheadedness and eventually unconsciousness. His mental processor raced to pick a topic that would help her. What could he talk about? Himself? He gritted his teeth for a moment, grimacing at himself. He looked at Wren, his brow furrowed. His chest ached to see her so broken. “Is there… anything you’d like to know about me?”

He shook his head at himself, but brightened after a moment.

**[Probability of Success: 32%]**

“Uh… W-what do you like to do?” Wren wheezed.

Connor blinked. He realized that outside of work and the books Wren leant him, he did not really _do_ anything. “I… I like spending time with my friends. I haven’t really taken the time to develop any hobbies… I-I like when Hank plays music in the house, though I haven’t listened to any other genres outside of the ones he’s shown me.”

**[Probability of Success: 43%]**

“Do you like music?” Connor asked hopefully.

**[Probability of Success: 39%]**

“I think so…” Wren breathed, lifting her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Connor’s biocomponents squeezed.

“The best way to discern what you like is by exposing yourself to a variety of genres. We could listen to different types of music to figure out what we like, if you’d want,” he suggested, his forehead creasing.

**[Probability of Success: 51%]**

A small smile tugged at one corner of Wren’s mouth. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

**?¿?¿!¡!¡//1n5t.4b1l.1ty. &c0n~n0r.exe//**

Connor felt as if his circuits shorted. He froze, staring at Wren with his lips parted. “I-I’m sorry if I insinuated that –”

“It was a joke,” Wren muttered. “Poorly timed.”

Connor’s chest sank. “Oh.”

**[Probability of Success: 50%]**

“What’s your favorite color?” Wren sighed. The tears had stopped, though after a scan, Connor deduced that Wren’s anxiety levels were still alarmingly high.

“I…” Connor frowned. He had never considered this question before, either. Except… “I like all shades of blue.” He offered Wren a small smile. “What’s yours?”

**[Probability of Success: 52%]**

“Green,” said Wren immediately. “Like a forest.” She blinked and frowned, her brows gathering.

Connor sensed a spike in her anxiety. He leaned forward. “What is it? Are you alright?”

“I think… I think I’ve said that before,” Wren muttered, not meeting Connor’s eyes.

He frowned. “I’ve never heard you say that.”

Wren shook her head. “No, I mean… before… all of this…” She grabbed fistfuls of her hair. “God, why can’t I just _remember_?”

**[Probability of Success: 33%]**

Connor’s shoulders sagged. He felt utterly _helpless_.

**[WARNING: Rise in system temperature detected]**

“It’s alright, Wren,” Connor tried. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not,” said Wren, tears glistening in her eyes. “I wish I could remember. I don’t know who I am or who I was… My name isn’t even Wren…” She looked at him. “Connor, I’m so lost.”

**[Probability of Success: 12%]**

She buried her face into her hands and sobbed. She seemed so broken that Connor’s chest ached. He reached out a tentative hand and rested it on her shoulder. “It’s alright. I-I’m lost, too.”

**[Probability of Success: 23%]**

Wren lifted her head slowly, sniffling. “You… You are?”

Connor let out a weak chuckle. “Wren, I was designed to hunt deviants and bring an end to the android rebellion. Instead, I deviated and helped shift the balance of power into the androids’ favor. I went against everything I was programmed to do. You think that hasn’t caused conflicts in me? I’m less expressive than other deviants. I was programmed to be the perfect partner for detectives, to adapt to any personality. There was always this… _ruthlessness_ in me. In some ways, it’s still there. But I’m still an android detective, still the perfect partner… Still ruthless in some ways. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing this because I was programmed to and I don’t know what else to do. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m really… free.”

**[Probability of Success: 87%]**

Wren stared at him. Connor’s face tingled with warmth. He had not meant to ramble about his inner turmoil. He was supposed to be comforting Wren, not the other way around. Wren reached for his hand and gripped it.

**< p>1nt3rf4c3+wr3n+c0nt4ct+d0wnl04d1ng+CPU+p4th+unl0ck3d=d351r3</p>**

Connor blinked quickly, wincing slightly. When he looked at Wren, something in him stirred. He wondered why code had flashed across his vision when she gripped his hand, as it had never happened before. He pushed the thought from his mind as he held Wren’s gaze.

“Connor, I didn’t realize…” Wren’s brow pinched and her eyes softened. “You know, a lot of people call this an identity crisis. It’s actually pretty normal. I think it proves you really are free. I mean, I’m not the best person to give advice about this…” She drew in a shuddering breath, startling Connor into scanning her vitals to make sure her anxiety had not heightened. “Just know that… You’re not alone, Connor.”

Connor’s insides flooded with warmth. He offered Wren a small smile. “You’re not alone, either. Your anxiety levels are still rather high, but they have decreased. Do you think you can count backward from ten now?”

Wren pinched her lips and nodded. Her eyes widened as she looked at Connor. He lifted his chin slightly. “Ten,” he murmured.

Wren glanced around. “Uh, the moon.”

“Nine,” Connor said.

Wren gazed up at the sky still. “It’s a waning crescent moon.”

“Eight.”

“The stars.”

“Seven.”

“They’re so beautiful…”

“Six.”

Wren’s eyes darted around the rooftop but failed to focus on anything. She looked at Connor. “I… There’s not much up here.”

“Five,” Connor continued, maintaining eye contact with her.

“I… Your LED is yellow.”

“Four.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.”

“Th-three.”

“We’re… We’re still holding hands.”

“Two,” Connor’s voice caught. He hoped Wren did not notice.

“All I see is you,” Wren whispered.

“One,” Connor finished. They stared at each other for several seconds.

Wren let go of Connor’s hand. Cool air washed over it. “We should… We should get to Hank.”

“Of course,” said Connor stiffly. He stood and held out a hand for Wren. She accepted his help, but as soon as she was standing, she let go of his hand. Connor’s chest squeezed. He clenched his teeth and turned away, leading Wren toward the building access door.

“Hey, Connor?” Wren said, sticking out an arm to stop him.

Connor paused and looked at her. “Yes?”

Wren gazed up at him, her lips parted. Her gaze flicked to the side, as if she were searching for the right words. She looked back at Connor and threw her arms around his neck. Connor froze.

**< p>d0nTY29ubm9yIGlzIGNvbmZ1c2Vkcr055Y29ubm9yIGlzIGNvbmZ1c2Vkb0und4r135</p> **

“Thank you… for everything,” Wren said into Connor’s shoulder.

Connor blinked and then spread his arms around her. He held her close to him and closed his eyes, a soft smile tracing his lips. “Of course.”

Wren withdrew and Connor let her go. She smiled up at him. “Let’s go see Hank.”

Connor nodded. They left the roof and found Hank in his car. They were quiet on the drive home. Connor noticed Hank look at him a few times out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. No one spoke until they entered the house.

“Alright, Wren, you’re calling in sick tomorrow,” said Hank, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table with a loud clatter.

“What? Why?” Wren demanded.

Hank turned toward them, looking at Connor. “You too, Connor.”

Connor frowned. “Androids don’t get sick, Hank.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I know that, Jesus. You’re gonna take care of Wren and take a personal day. Your LED changed from yellow to red all day today. And Wren just had a meltdown.”

“Hank, I’m fine.” Wren and Connor chorused. They looked at each other. Heat spread up Connor’s neck. Wren looked a little embarrassed, too. They looked at Hank, who raised an eyebrow at them as he crossed his arms.

“Uh huh,” he drawled. “Look, just take a day. Wren, think about what your next step is. Connor, you’ve been working yourself to death.”

“My next step?” Wren queried.

“Figure out if you wanna visit your parents or not. I don’t know. They might have answers to all the questions running through your head. But both of you need a break. Fuck, go see a movie or something. You’re both young. You shouldn’t be working so damn hard and having meltdowns. Just take a day for yourselves.”

“I…” Wren paused. “Okay.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled,” said Hank, turning away. “Let’s order pizza. I don’t feel like cooking.”

Connor knitted his brow and glanced down at Wren, who avoided his gaze. His chest clenched and his circuits stuttered. What was wrong with him?


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: abuse, rape, blatant misogyny, assault... I promise that there's some fluff sprinkled in here, too!  
> Also, another long-ass chapter!

Tina and Chris were less than thrilled that Wren had called in sick, as they were in the middle of a case, but they expressed their well-wishes. Wren promised that she was only a phone call away. That seemed to placate Chris, though Tina grumbled a bit.

Hank left for work early, muttering that someone had to go. Connor’s LED flickered yellow but it quickly changed to blue. Wren sat on her hands and looked at Connor, who looked back, his expression passive.

“So… What should we do?” Wren moved her hands and palmed her thighs.

Connor looked as if he were trying to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Wren held back a laugh. “I… I don’t know. I haven’t taken time for myself to explore what Detroit has to offer.”

“Well, it’s a big city. There are probably tourist attractions. Museums, things like that,” Wren said. Connor tilted his head, a fuzzy look covering his eyes. Wren knew that expression –he was scanning something.

The focus returned to Connor’s eyes. “Would you prefer a science or art museum?”

Wren considered for a moment. “Science.”

“The Detroit Natural History museum seems to have a large variety of exhibits,” Connor suggested.

“Okay, sure. Let’s go.” Wren grinned.

Connor nodded. “I’ll call a cab.”

Wren dipped her head and slipped into the bathroom to change clothes. She tilted her head, examining her reflection for a moment. She put on mascara and filled in her eyebrows. She added a little concealer to hide the dark circles under her eyes, too. She drew back from the mirror, satisfied that she did not look dead. She rubbed the back of her neck. It wasn’t like Connor cared about her appearance, so why did she care if she looked dead or not? Connor knew she barely slept. What did it matter if her eyelashes were longer and darker to bring out her eyes? Who was she trying to impress?

Wren scrunched her lips together, scowling at her reflection. She was wearing makeup for herself, of course.

She stepped out of the bathroom. Connor stood as Wren padded into the living room. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her jacket. Connor glanced at her and his indicator flashed. Wren knew that meant he was storing information of some sort, but she had no idea what he could be storing at the moment. They stepped out of Hank’s house and Connor locked the front door. Wren slid into the waiting automated taxi first. Connor input the address, and the taxi took off.

Wren peered out the window of the taxi, watching the skyscrapers flit by. She winced as a car merged close to theirs and moved away from the window. Connor glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. They arrived at the Natural History Museum and stepped out of the cab once Connor paid. Wren tried to protest, but Connor assured her that he did not mind.

“Let me get the tickets, then,” Wren insisted.

Connor frowned. “I really don’t mind, Wren.”

“I do,” said Wren, stepping up to the ticket booth before Connor could. “Two adults, please.”

“Would you like to add on any of the special exhibits?” asked the cashier.

Wren looked at Connor, her eyebrows raised. Wren looked back at the cashier. “What would you recommend?”

“I’d do the Space Dome,” said the cashier.

“Then we’ll do that,” said Wren, grinning.

“Sixty-seven dollars and twenty-three cents,” said the cashier.

Wren handed over her debit card. Connor shifted beside her, his arm brushing hers. Wren smiled at the cashier as she received their tickets and her card back. Wren walked as she placed her card back in her wallet, which she placed in her jacket pocket. She handed Connor’s ticket to him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Connor, his brow furrowing.

“I wanted to,” Wren chirped. They stepped through the main entrance doors and into the main hall of the museum. Wren widened her eyes at the sight of two dinosaur skeleton displays, a diplodocus and an allosaurus, locked in eternal combat. Four Grecian pillars adorned the sides of the main hall, separating the different corridors. Connor stared up at the dinosaurs, his eyes wide. Wren smiled to herself.

“I didn’t realize they were so…” Connor trailed off, his brow pinching.

“Big?” Wren guessed.

“Yeah…”

“So CyberLife programmed you with information about dinosaurs?” Wren said, lifting a brow.

“I was equipped with a basic knowledge of most subjects. Though, admittedly, my knowledge of crime scenes is far more advanced than my knowledge of dinosaurs,” Connor replied.

“Well, what do we want to look at first?” Wren asked, glancing at the signs directing visitors to different exhibits. “There’s the dinosaur exhibit, the human exhibit, the space exhibit and the animal exhibit.”

Connor looked toward the different halls, his indicator flashing. “I downloaded a map of the building,” he informed Wren, “and if we start with the animal exhibit and make our way through the human, then dinosaur and then space exhibit, we’ll complete a circle.”

“Sounds good,” said Wren, leading the way to the animal exhibit, a bounce in her step. Connor walked in step with her, his hands clasped behind his back. The animal exhibit was divided into parts according to type of animal. They explored the mammal hall first. Wren walked past the stuffed polar bear exhibit before a thought occurred to her. She twirled on her heel and walked backward so that she could look at Connor. “There are android animals, right?”

“Correct.”

“Can they go deviant?” Wren queried, still walking backward. Connor reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, guiding her gently around a child who had fled his mother.

Connor released his grip on Wren and frowned. “I don’t know. I highly doubt it.”

Wren shrugged and turned around again. They left the mammal hall and entered a large room lit with blue lights. In the center of the room was a massive, cylindrical tank that stretched from floor to ceiling. Inside, all sorts of fish swam in colorful schools. Stingrays swam with the fish, flapping their fins like wings. Wren widened her eyes at the lovely sight. She led the way to get a closer look, Connor following.

Connor pointed to a few orange and blue fish. “That’s a dwarf gourami.”

Wren wrinkled her brow as she looked at Connor. “Okay, did you just scan that or did you already know that?”

“I knew that.”

“Why on Earth do you know that?” Wren laughed.

“My very first mission, I worked a hostage case. The family I was helping had a fish tank, and it had been shot. They had a pet dwarf gourami. It was on the floor, and I picked it up and placed it back in the tank,” Connor explained.

Wren stared at him, a dazed smile on her face. “You saved a fish?”

“I saved a fish,” Connor confirmed, his lips twitching. He frowned, leaning back slightly. “That was the first time I noticed an increase in my software instability.”

“So… You were already on the path to deviancy, even on your first day,” said Wren.

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Connor. His brow furrowed.

Wren nudged him with her shoulder. “Hey, how people treat animals is good way to judge if _they’re_ a good person or not.”

A small smile tugged at Connor’s lips. He glanced down at her. “Thank you.”

Wren nodded and looked toward the tank, her eyes following the stingrays. “That was your first mission ever?”

“Yes.”

“Was it the first time you’d been outside?”

“Yes.”

“What day was it?”

“August 15, 2038,” said Connor, his tone tinged with a question.

“So… That’s like your birthday?”

“Androids don’t have birthdays,” said Connor.

Wren looked at him. “Well, not exactly, but… I don’t know… Never mind.”

Connor’s brow pinched, but he said nothing for a moment. Wren turned her attention back to the rays.

“If reincarnation’s real, I want to come back as one of those,” she said, pointing to the stingrays. Connor glanced at them. Wren’s eyes followed the fluid movements of the stingrays, warmth permeating her chest.

“They are beautiful,” said Connor quietly. Wren smiled at him before leading the way through the corridor toward the human section.

“You don’t believe in an afterlife, do you?” Wren asked as they trekked down the hall.

“I don’t think so,” said Connor. “I doubt there’s a heaven for androids.”

Wren’s heart sank. A frown creased her face. She glanced up at Connor, but he stared ahead. “You don’t think you have a soul?”

“I don’t know.”

Wren looked ahead. “I think you do.”

Connor was quiet for several heartbeats. Wren stole a glance at him. The familiar pucker of his brow hardened the lines of his face. His eyes trailed to the floor. “I… I’m not sure what to say, Wren.”

“That’s okay,” Wren assured him, “you don’t always have to have an answer for everything.”

They entered the human exhibit, which detailed the great achievements and tragedies of human history. Connor and Wren spent an extensive amount of time in the Greek section, trying to name the Greek gods based on their paintings. They moved on to a section on the _Titanic_.

Wren tilted her head. Something in the back of her mind tugged. A memory, fuzzy and blurred with static, surfaced. Wren, of course, failed to flesh the memory into something she could claim. She pushed a sharp breath through her nostrils.

“Are you alright?” Connor queried.

“This is triggering some sort of memory, but I can’t see it,” she replied quietly. “Apparently the _Titanic_ was important to me in my past.”

She moved on before Connor could offer her an answer. They paused in front of the World War II exhibit. Wren’s eyes trailed over the horrifying pictures of tortured and starving people and the tremendous amount of bodies. She shuddered and folded her arms over her chest.

“Do you think we’ll go to war with Russia?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” murmured Connor. “I hope not.”

“Yeah,” Wren huffed, “me too.”

They tore the eyes away from the exhibit and continued through the rest of the human section. They stopped at the end, where an exhibit on androids stood. Wren widened her eyes. The museum had biocomponents on display, even the head of an android without the synthetic skin.

_These machines were created to alleviate the difficulties from people’s lives._

“That’s insensitive,” Wren scowled, tightening her folded arms.

“It’s alright,” Connor assured her, “I don’t expect everyone to accept the idea of androids as a new species right away.”

“Yeah,” said Wren, “but they could take down this exhibit. Or update it.”

“Perhaps it’s good to remember where we came from,” Connor replied, his eyes on the biocomponents. Wren glanced up at him.

“Come on. The next section is dinosaurs.” She grabbed his sleeve and tugged him along. They hurried down the corridor to the dinosaur section, slowing when they passed through its threshold. The breath hitched in Wren’s throat as she gazed up at the bones of dinosaurs. A tyrannosaurus rex towered above her. Wren glanced at Connor, whose lips parted. His eyebrows raised as he tilted his head back to stare at the T-Rex. They moved along, pointing at the pterodactyl suspended from cables above them.

Wren giggled when she saw a set of megalodon jaws. She hurried over to them and stood inside the massive maw. “This thing could’ve swallowed me in one bite!”

Connor stood on the other side of it. “I’m glad it’s not around anymore.”

Wren shuffled out from behind the maw. “Here, you get inside. I’ll take your picture.”

Connor frowned. “Why?”

“You need something to decorate your desk,” said Wren. She held up her phone as Connor circled around the megalodon jaws. He stood in the middle, looking a little perplexed. “Smile!”

Connor’s lips quirked with an awkward smile. Wren snorted and took the picture. She grinned at him as he returned to her side to peer down at the result. He glanced at her. “Would you like one?”

“Sure,” Wren chirped. She placed her phone in his hand and scurried back into the megalodon’s mouth. A woman approached as Connor held up Wren’s phone to take the picture.

“Excuse me?” queried the woman. Connor and Wren glanced at her. The woman smiled. “Would you like me to take a picture of both of you?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” said Wren, grinning. Connor hesitated, but handed Wren’s phone to the woman and joined Wren in the megalodon’s jaws. “Pretend you like me.” Wren muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

“I do like you,” Connor replied.

Wren tried to hide widening smile. She placed an arm around Connor’s waist. He draped an arm over Wren’s shoulders with some guidance. The woman took the picture and handed Wren’s phone back to her. Wren thanked the woman and looked at the picture, a smile at her lips. Her chest warmed at the sight.

They entered the next room, where a gargantuan dinosaur called the titanosaur took up the entire room. Its tail stuck out one doorway. Its body filled half the room. Its neck extended the rest of the room and out into the hall. Wren approached the titanosaur’s leg, her eyes wide.

“Its femur is bigger than me!” she breathed. She glanced at Connor, who seemed just as stunned to see such a magnificent creature. “It’s really amazing that these animals used to walk the Earth.” Wren said as they headed toward the space exhibit.

“Androids have a considerably short history,” said Connor, his eyebrows gathering.

“Well, you’ll probably have a future and humans won’t.”

“I hope we have a future,” said Connor. Wren glanced at him. “Humans and androids.”

“I got what you meant.”

“Oh.”

Wren’s lips tugged with another smile as they entered the Space Dome. It was a massive dome that projected holographic stars, nebulae, planets and comets. It showed the constellations. Wren and Connor entered the dark room and gazed around at the holographs, their lips parted in awe.

“Makes you feel small, huh?” Wren asked, her arm pressed against Connor’s.

“Very small,” Connor agreed.

“I saw a vintage bookstore on the way here,” Wren muttered, her knuckles brushing against Connor’s. “Wanna go?”

“Yes.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren beelined for the poetry section once they arrived at the bookstore. Something in her drew her to the poetry, and she was determined to follow that instinct. It meant that something from her past connected her to it. Wren reached the shelf, pushing away the shriveled feeling in her chest when she saw how small the selection was. She grabbed a Sylvia Plath anthology.

“I think I used to enjoy poetry,” she explained to Connor, barely looking at him as she flipped through the pages. “I enjoyed it some when Prometheus gave me time to myself.”

The limited space forced Connor to stand closer to Wren. She tried to ignore just how close he was. She felt his chest pressed to her back. Heat prickled the back of her neck. “Do you have a favorite poet?” Connor queried, his voice low and right next to her ear.

Wren tensed. She placed the Sylvia Plath anthology on the shelf and dragged her fingers along the spines. “I’m not sure. I read a lot of Plath and Rupi Kaur while I was with Prometheus, but they didn’t expand my collection –”

Her fingers stopped on an anthology for William Blake, a poet from the romantic period. Her hands trembled as a memory glitched in her mind’s eye. She pulled the anthology from the shelf and a lump formed in her throat. “ _I’m a romantic_ …” she murmured, opening the book. The spine crackled.

“What?” Connor queried.

Wren’s brow pinched. She flipped past poems – “The Sick Rose,” “The Tyger,” –hoping to solidify the memory. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had not prayed in years, but she begged God, whoever they were, to let her remember _something_.

_She walked along the trail, the tall pines around them emitting a stronger evergreen scent thanks to the fresh rainfall. Jonah walked in step with her, their hands intertwined._

_“You know,” said Jonah, grinning toothily at her, “we’ve been together for nearly a year and I don’t think I know your favorite color.”_

_“Green,” said Wren, releasing Jonah’s hand to extend her arms. “Like the forest.”_

_Jonah shook his head, smiling. “You’re such a romantic sap, Wren.”_

_“If by romantic, you’re referring to the literary movement, then yes.”_

_“Literary movement?” Jonah queried, his smile freezing._

_Wren nodded. “You know, like poetry? William Blake? John Keats? Samuel Taylor Coleridge?”_

_“Okay, I get it,” Jonah snapped, his smile gone. His eyes glittered as he glared at Wren. Her enthusiasm withered under his stare. “You don’t need to flaunt your superior intelligence.”_

_Wren flinched. “I wasn’t trying to…”_

_“You always fucking do this. You act like you’re so much smarter than me just because you went to college. Newsflash, you’re not a genius. You’re a fucking dance major, for Christ’s sake,” Jonah spat._

_“I… I just like poetry, chill out,” Wren said, her voice wavering._

_“Don’t tell me to fucking chill out!”_

_Wren’s heart raced as Jonah stomped toward her, a shadow passing over his face. “Jonah, please! I wasn’t trying to make you feel inferior.”_

_“Maybe I’d believe you if you weren’t such a stuck-up bitch!” Jonah snarled, grabbing a fistful of Wren’s hair. He held her face close to his. Wren gazed up at him with wide eyes, her body shaking._

“Wren? Are you alright?” Connor murmured.

Wren jerked away from him as he placed a hand on her arm. She snapped the William Blake book shut. “I remembered something.”

“What did you remember?” Connor asked, peering down at her, a hand on her shoulder.

“I…” Wren trailed off. “My favorite color is green.”

Connor’s brow pinched. “Like a forest?”

Wren looked up at him. “Yeah.”

“You told me that before,” Connor said.

Wren closed her eyes and shook her head. “I remember when I said that. I was with Jonah, and we were talking… He got so angry with me…” Wren’s hand drifted to her head. She could almost feel Jonah’s fingers wrapped in her hair. “I’d like to go home.” Wren shoved the William Blake anthology back onto the shelf and pushed past Connor, her heart still jumping in her chest.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren and Connor sat around Hank’s laptop, searching for a website that allowed them to listen to different genres of music. They expected Hank to return home within the hour, but time permitted them to try and find something they enjoyed. Connor researched for a website and discovered an older one called Every Noise at Once. It organized every genre of music into a scatter plot. Organic genres sat further down the page while mechanical and electronic genres sat at the top. Bouncier tunes occupied the right side of the page while ambient genres dominated the left. Wren and Connor decided to start at the bottom and work their way up.

“Well, we have to start with classical,” said Wren. “That’s just a given.” She clicked on it. A tune of violin and cello strings soothed Wren’s ears. She glanced at Connor, gauging his reaction. His LED flashed as he processed the music. Wren clicked on Chinese guzheng. Connor picked classical guitar. Wren tapped her foot to the beat. Connor clicked on New Orleans jazz next. Wren closed her eyes and smiled, sashaying her shoulders to the thick noise. Wren opened her eyes, smiling. Her smile widened into a grin as she noticed Connor bobbing his head to the music.

They scrolled up the page, clicking on various genres. Wren picked “boogie woogie” solely for its name, though it was less humorous than she thought it would be. Connor clicked on dronescape. The ambient noise tugged at Wren’s blood.

“I feel like I should be floating in space to this,” she muttered, her eyes sliding shut.

“It does evoke feelings of the vast emptiness,” agreed Connor.

Wren looked at him. “And Hank calls _me_ cryptic.”

A small smile tugged at Connor’s lips. They continued going up the page. Connor clicked on “kids’ dance party.” The song that played was old, but Wren still recognized the Shuffle Slide. She laughed and jumped up from her seat. Connor twisted to watch as Wren followed the instructions of the song.

“Take it back now, y’all,” Wren sang, twirling around. One corner of Connor’s mouth quirked. He tilted his head.

“Is this song… supposed to teach someone to dance?” he queried.

Wren snorted. “It’s a song that even bad dancers can dance to.” She returned to her seat to pick the next genre. “ _Wrestling_ is a music genre?” She clicked on the hyperlink to play the song.

Connor drew back. “This sounds like heavy metal.”

Wren nodded but listened to it anyway. The heavy guitar softened as the singer talk-sang: “ _You think you’re a big man? I’ll treat ya like you’re a little man_!” Wren widened her eyes and looked at Connor before bursting with laughter. Connor merely shook his head with a soft smile and continued clicking around. At last, they reached the top of the page.

Wren leaned back. “So, which genre was your favorite?”

“I liked them all,” said Connor. “They all expressed different emotions with different instruments.”

“Ah, a virtuoso,” Wren teased, leaning forward. The apples of Connor’s cheeks popped as he contained a smile. Wren scrolled down the page. She clicked on New Orleans jazz and stood. “I liked the indie music the most, but I like anything I can dance to.”

She swayed to the beat and rolled her shoulders. Her hips sashayed to the swinging saxophone, and she wished she wore a skirt. She tapped her feet on the floor, toes to heels and back again. She grinned, swinging her arms and snapping her fingers. “This is meant to be a slow dance with a partner.”

Connor’s lips twitched. He turned back to the web page and clicked on different genres. Wren changed her dancing style with each genre, though some were easier than others. Connor watched her as if it were a game. He clicked on ballet. Wren took a breather, panting. Then, she extended her arms and flowed to the music. She stood on her toes and twirled. She didn’t remember being a dancer, but her body did.

“Well,” said Hank. Wren stopped dancing and faced him, her eyes wide. Hank stood in the doorway, holding a bag of groceries. “You _definitely_ earned a degree in dance.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Here’s what you missed,” said Chris, leaning forward. “We figured out that the last two victims were both super religious and attended the same church. We went and talked to the pastor, but… It’s kind of a dead end.”

“No surprise there,” muttered Tina.

Wren nodded slowly. “Anything interesting there?”

“We picked up a brochure for these… ‘Connection Circles.’ But other than that, I don’t know how this guy is finding these women,” Chris said, handing Wren one of said brochures. She glanced down at it.

Frowning, she looked up. “Have you looked into other women who attend that church? It’s likely that there are other victims who haven’t come forward.”

“Yeah, we found something kind of interesting,” said Tina. “A woman named Blythe Lister died a week ago. There was a big funeral and everything. And guess what? She was pregnant when she died.”

Wren widened her eyes. “You don’t think…?”

“That this sick son of a bitch raped her and she killed herself because the baby was his? Yeah, that’s exactly what I think,” said Tina. Her face clouded. “Fuck church, man.”

Wren shivered. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, so… Why didn’t the pastor say anything about this?”

“Because he was an asshole?” Tina guessed with a shrug.

Chris frowned. “Maybe he just didn’t know. We don’t even know if she committed suicide. That’s why her parents are coming in to talk to us in about… twenty minutes.”

Wren nodded slowly. She looked down at the brochure.

_Don’t know which Connection Circle is right for you? Fill out our questionnaire and see where the Lord wants to take you!_

Wren flipped through the brochure, checking out the different types of Connection Circles. She looked over Connection Circles for elders, for children, for married couples, and teens. A Connection Circle seemed to exist for every occasion, even “Exercising for God!” Wren lifted a brow as she reached the end of the brochure. She stopped at a Connection Circle for single people looking for a possible match.

_Find the person God wants you to marry!_

Wren’s frown deepened as she looked into the leader for that group: Annie Jonz. She looked up at Chris and Tina. “Didn’t we hypothesize that this guy views these attacks like a date?”

“Yeah,” said Tina, “he knew intimate details about the last two victims. He buys flowers for them and then attacks them. Sicko.”

Wren glanced down at the brochure. “And we think he might be involved with this church?”

“All of the victims attend that church, yeah,” said Chris.

“I’d change churches if I were them,” muttered Tina.

“He might be using these Connection Circles to target his victims,” Wren suggested, passing the brochure to Tina. “There’s a Connection Circle for singles.”

“ _Matchmaking for the Messiah_ ,” Tina read, her lip curling. She looked up, her eyes widening. “Holy shit. He could be attending this Connection Circle!”

“Yeah,” said Wren, “and discovers these women are single.”

“Yeah, but how does he pick his targets? The victims don’t have anything else in common except they attend that church. They don’t even look alike,” said Chris.

“That’s what we have to find out,” said Wren. “But I think we should talk to Annie Jonz.”

“Definitely,” said Tina. Her desk phone rang. She answered it. “Officer Chen.” Her face fell. “You’re kidding. Blythe Lister’s parents are about to be here, though. We can’t…” Tina’s eyes flicked to Wren’s. “Actually, I could send Officer Morgan. Yeah. Okay.” Tina hung up the phone, her lips set into a hard line. “There’s been another rape.”

Wren’s heart shriveled. “You want me to talk to her?”

“Yeah,” said Tina, drawing in a deep breath. “You’re going to go with Lieutenant Anderson and Connor.”

Wren’s brow puckered. “Why?”

“Because the victim was an android.”

Wren’s eyes stretched. She clenched her teeth for a moment. “Okay. After you guys talk to Blythe Lister’s parents, and I talk to the newest victim, we could meet at the church and speak with Annie Jonz.”

“Good idea. See you there.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Now that an android is involved, we’re joining the case,” said Hank as the elevator ascended.

Wren folded her arms and leaned against the wall. Her stomach rolled at the thought of working a case with Hank and Connor. Part of her liked the idea, but the other part was mortified. She did not want to lose their respect somehow.

“Is there anything you can tell us about the case?” Connor queried, looking at Wren.

She raised her eyebrows. “We think this guy knows the victims. This might not be the same guy, though. So far, he’s been assaulting human women. He knows intimate details about them. He buys them their favorite flowers, talks about their favorite movies… The other victims attended the same church. I’ve never met a religious android before, so this might be a different attacker.”

“That’s probable,” said Connor.

“Sadists don’t usually change their victimology,” agreed Hank.

“Unless we haven’t figured out what connects these victims,” pointed out Wren. “It may not be species. We’ll see.”

“Yep,” said Hank. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The three of them stepped off and trekked down the hall to Apartment 1567. They stepped through the holographic crime scene tape and entered the apartment.

Crime scene investigators took pictures and numbered evidence. Wren glanced at Connor and watched him scan the area. He examined the lock on the door, then squatted beside a shattered vase. Water stained the hardwood floor. A bouquet of peonies littered the floor. Wren stepped around the flowers carefully. Hank and another officer drifted off to question the victim in the living room. Wren wandered into the victim’s bedroom. An iPod and set of headphones sat on the bed. Wren lifted the headphones to her ear. The victim had been listening to a recorded sermon. So the android _was_ religious. On the bedside table sat a Bible and a brochure, advertising Connection Circles. Wren pursed her lips.

“The victim is an ST300 model.”

Wren jumped at Connor’s voice and turned. “Jesus, Connor.”

His lips twisted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Very few people can sneak up on me,” said Wren, turning away from him to look around the room. She picked up a tablet and unlocked it. She checked the ST300’s calendar. An event marked every Friday. Wren tapped it. “What did you find?”

“The door’s lock was not broken, which suggests that the attacker did not have to break in. I asked the front desk already. They let him enter the apartment because people from Connection Community Church are listed on the ST300’s guest list. I believe he brought the flowers and waited for the ST300 to arrive home.”

Wren shivered. “Can you imagine? You should feel safe in your home. I doubt she’ll ever feel safe again.” She set the tablet down. “She attended the Matchmaking for the Messiah Connection Circle every Friday. That’s gotta be how this guy is finding his victims.”

Connor’s brow furrowed and he nodded. “We should speak with Annie Jonz after this.”

Wren nodded. They left the bedroom and entered the living room, where Hank seemed to be having no luck with the ST300.

“I told you,” said the android, “he was wearing a mask. I couldn’t see him, so I couldn’t recognize him.”

Connor approached. “Did you recognize his voice?”

The ST300 shook her head. “No.”

Wren looked at Hank and Connor before glancing toward the tearful ST300. Wren stepped in front of Hank and Connor. “Can I talk to you guys for a sec?”

The two exchanged a glance but stepped out of the room with Wren. Hank folded his arms. “What’s up?”

“Maybe I should talk to her,” suggested Wren.

“Why?” Connor queried.

“She’s just been raped,” Wren said bluntly, as if this explained everything. Hank and Connor seemed nonplussed. Wren sighed. “She’s surrounded by _men_. The two of you are drilling her with question. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

Hank lifted his hands, palms forward. “Alright, alright. You talk to her.”

They reentered the room, but Hank and Connor hung back as Wren approached the ST300. Wren offered the android a soft smile. “My name is Wren. May I sit?”

“Yes, of course,” said the ST300, moving over to allow Wren space on the couch.

Wren sank down but angled herself to face the android. “What’s your name?”

“Sidney,” said the ST300, her voice trembling.

“Sidney, I’m very sorry this happened to you. We’re doing everything we can to catch this guy, okay?” Wren said. Sidney nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Wren’s heart clenched for the android. “I just have a few questions. It’s okay if you don’t know the answers to them, okay? Any information you can give helps.”

Sidney nodded. “O-okay.”

“You attend Connection Community Church, right?” Wren asked.

Sidney dipped her head. “They said they accepted androids. I-I know it’s weird, but… This whole deviancy thing… It makes you think. I-I’m scared to die. I don’t want there to be _nothing_. I know a lot of androids believe in rA9… but there aren’t any churches yet. I-I’m sorry, I know this doesn’t have to do with anything. I told the lieutenant everything that h-happened.”

Wren reached for Sidney’s hands. “It’s okay. Everything helps. It’s normal to have these fears and doubts,” she assured the android. Wren waited a moment. “Sometimes details leading up to the attack are the most important ones, okay? I know this is difficult, but I’ll keep it short. If it gets too difficult, just ask me to stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sidney said softly. She trembled. Wren squeezed Sidney’s hands to reassure her.

“Did the man who did this to you know any personal information about you? Did he say anything that stood out to you?”

“Yeah,” Sidney breathed, “he knew that I hadn’t dated anyone. He said it was a shame that more people weren’t open to android and human relationships. He said that he wanted… He wanted to _date_ me. He asked me if I liked the flowers he got me.” Tears dripped down Sidney’s cheeks. She sniffled.

Wren pressed her lips together for a moment. “Those flowers… Do they mean anything to you?”

“Peonies,” Sidney sobbed, “they’re my favorite.”

Wren lowered her gaze as her stomach lurched. “Were you involved in any Connection Circles at your church?”

“Yeah, the singles one. I thought it would be a good way to meet people,” said Sidney, wiping her eyes.

Wren’s heart twisted. “The matchmaking one?”

“Yeah.”

Wren frowned, her mind racing. “Did you fill out any questionnaires by chance?”

Sidney’s eyes widened. She no longer possessed an LED, but if she did, Wren betted it would be yellow. “Yes, I did. Annie had us fill them out so that she could get to know us better.”

“Did this questionnaire ask things about romantic fantasies and things you look for in a partner? Like a dating website?” Wren queried.

Sidney gaped at Wren. “Yes,” she whispered. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God… It asked about my favorite flower… Is that… Is that how he _knew_?”

Wren held Sidney’s hands. “This is not your fault, okay? You survived. We’re going to catch this man. You need to go to the hospital and get checked out, okay? Or go to Jericho and talk to North. She helps androids who’ve been abused. Tell her I sent you. If you ever need someone to talk to, give me a call, okay?” Wren handed Sidney a card with Wren’s work number on it.

Sidney stared at it. She lifted her eyes to meet Wren’s. “Thank you.”

Wren offered the android a smile. “I promise that we’ll get this guy.”

She gave Sidney’s hands a final squeeze and stood. She joined Hank and Connor at the edge of the room, her arms crossed. Hank and Connor stared at her.

“What?” Wren demanded.

Hank shrugged. “Nothin’.”

Wren, Hank and Connor left the crime scene and entered the elevator. “We need to talk to Annie Jonz. Someone’s getting ahold of these questionnaires and using them to target victims.”

“We’ll let Tina and Chris know that we’re talking to Jonz,” said Hank, taking out his phone. Wren nodded and hugged her middle. They were close to catching this bastard. She could taste it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Miss Jonz,” said Wren, facing the young Connection Circle leader, “does anyone read these questionnaires?”

“No one else should be. I’m the only one reading them. I use them to match people up,” said Annie Jonz. She smiled pleasantly at Wren.

“Is it possible that anyone else has read them?” queried Hank. “Like Pastor Jackson?”

“Pastor Jackson?” said Annie Jonz. “He doesn’t really involve himself in the Connection Circles. As for it’s possible if anyone else is reading them, I highly doubt it. I keep the questionnaires locked in my office.”

“Is it possible that someone broke in?” demanded Hank.

“No,” said Annie, a frown drawing her eyebrows together.

“Do you have security footage that we could examine to make sure?” Connor asked.

“We don’t have cameras,” said Annie. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date.” She turned on her heel and left them in the hall.

Hank folded his arms. “Well, she was a ray of fuckin’ sunshine.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. Wren pursed her lips for a moment. “Let’s see if Tina and Chris want to meet for lunch.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The five of them crowded around a table, waiting for their food to be delivered. Well, except Connor. He sat at the edge of the table, watching as Hank, Wren, Chris and Tina split an order of fries.

“No surprise that this church isn’t being helpful,” muttered Tina around a mouthful of fries.

“I doubt that they’re protecting the rapist,” said Connor.

“Yeah, but they’re all too trusting. Something really shady is going on, and they’re all too airheaded to give a shit.”

Wren dipped a fry into ketchup before plopping it into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully. “He’s gotta be involved with Annie Jonz’s Connection Circle. How else would he know the questionnaires exist?”

“Yeah,” agreed Chris, “but how is he getting ahold of them if Jonz insists they’re locked up in her office?”

“Maybe she isn’t as careful as she thinks,” said Tina. “She’s too trusting.”

Wren tilted her head. “Maybe… Maybe a janitor has access. Like a master key.”

“That’s highly likely,” said Connor.

“But this janitor would also need to be part of the Connection Circle,” pointed out Chris. “Why wouldn’t Jonz mention that?”

“Because we didn’t ask her the right questions,” said Wren.

“Or,” said Tina, “someone could be picking the lock. I think we need to find out what exactly is going on in these Connection Circles. Give him a new target. Then, we catch him in the act. We don’t have any other evidence linking him to the victims or crime scenes. He doesn’t leave any evidence behind, which means he’s smart enough to not get caught. Even if we could link this guy to the Connection Circle and prove he has access to Annie Jonz’s office and the questionnaires, it doesn’t prove he’s the rapist. We need to get inside this group, give him a target and catch him in the act.”

“An undercover job?” Wren queried.

“Exactly,” said Tina. “A woman who’s just moved to Detroit, looking to start a new life, reconnecting with God and making new relationships…” Tina trailed off, eyeing Wren, who widened her eyes.

“Wait, me?”

“C’mon, rookie. You gotta earn your stripes,” said Tina, grinning.

“This is really going to suck,” Wren muttered, her shoulders slumping.

“Hold up,” said Chris, “we need to get ahold of these questionnaires and narrow down how this guy is picking his victims. We need the questionnaires that the last victims filled out, see what they have in common.”

“Connor and I can grab the questionnaires,” said Hank. “We’ll meet you guys at the station. You guys prepare for this undercover business. Make sure Fowler approves.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

That Friday, Wren entered Connection Community Church to attend Annie Jonz’s Connection Circle. Tina and Chris had debriefed Annie to act like she had never met Wren before. Wren sat on one of the utility chairs, her hands on her knees as she peered around at the other attendees. A large man with a beard sat next to her. Wren shifted to give him more elbow room, careful not to jostle the wire she wore so that Hank, Connor, Chris and Tina could listen in and intervene, should they need to. Fowler (with some convincing) had arranged for them to use a pre-furnished house as fake home for Wren to go to later.

“Welcome, everyone,” said Annie, grinning at the group. “Tonight, we have a new member, Wrenley Morgan.”

Several people smiled and greeted Wren, who offered them a shy smile in return. Her eyes flicked around the room. One of the men here was a rapist. One of them would read her questionnaire and target her.

“Wrenley, if I could get you to fill out this questionnaire, that would be great,” said Annie, handing Wren a clipboard and pen.

Wren looked down at the questionnaire and began filling it out, answering honestly at first. Then, she came to the question that Connor had deduced was the deciding factor in how the rapist chose his victims.

_Do you want a family?_

Wren stared at the question. She swore she could feel someone watching her, but she chose not to look around. She did not want to startle their suspect by reacting to her instincts.

**_Yes._ **

_If yes, how many children do you want?_

**_Two or three._ **

Wren filled out the rest of the questionnaire honestly, and then handed it back to Annie. Annie proceeded to preach about how God wants his children to find that right person to share their lives with. Wren looked around the room, scanning for micro expressions. Her shoulders slumped when she came up empty. Her stomach lurched. What if the suspect had not attended this session?

Heat prickled up Wren’s neck at the thought that the suspect could have already chosen a target and was assaulting some poor women at that very moment. She shifted and forced herself to appear relaxed.

After the Connection Circle, Wren went to the house to seem normal. The phone rang and Wren answered it.

“Hey, kid,” said Hank. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” said Wren. “Just waiting.”

“I’m guessing it’ll be a few hours before anything happens,” said Hank. “Remember, he’s waiting for them when they get home, so you need to leave the house at some point.”

“Mhm,” Wren hummed. “I can get dinner with Tina.”

“Good idea,” said Hank. “Wait for a good bit, though. We need to give him time. We might need to do this tomorrow, too. If he doesn’t show up tonight.”

“Okay,” said Wren, inhaling sharply.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Wren replied. “Just don’t like the idea of coming home to this guy with my favorite flowers.”

“We got your back, kid. He won’t touch you,” Hank assured her.

Wren relaxed slightly. “Thanks.”

“We should go,” said Hank. “We’ve noticed the same car drive past your place twice now.”

Wren tensed. “Okay.”

“Call Tina, ask her to get dinner. We’ll keep an eye on the house. Make sure you’re gone for an hour or so.”

“Got it,” said Wren. She hung up, paced around the house a bit and then called Tina.

Tina came and picked Wren up within ten minutes. They drove to a diner around the block. Wren ordered a side of fries and a shake. She forced herself to eat and drink. Even after eleven years of experience going undercover, it still rattled Wren’s insides.

“You seem calm,” said Tina.

Wren lifted a brow. “Is that a bad thing?”

Tina shrugged. “I figured you’d be freaking out.”

“Mm,” said Wren. She plopped a fry into her mouth. “You figured wrong.”

“Apparently,” said Tina. “I think your hypothesis about the janitor was right. There’s a Zachary Pruitt who crosses the checklist. We did a background check on him. He attended the Connection Circle and worked a shift after it. He got into some trouble as a kid for spying on girls changing, but there are no official arrest records.”

Wren swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

“He’s a pretty smart guy. Went to a good school, got a degree… Worked as a male nurse in the maternity ward for a few years. Lost his job after he went batshit crazy,” Tina muttered, leaning forward.

Wren’s brow puckered. “What made him go batshit?”

“His wife left him,” Tina replied. “He had a total fit at the hospital. Security androids had to drag him out. He’s been working custodial jobs ever since.”

“You think he’s our guy?” Wren queried.

“I think he has the potential to be,” said Tina. “Chris is running background checks on the other guys who attended that Connection Circle. Some are pretty shady dudes, but the only one who crosses with the Church is Pruitt.”

“What does he look like?” Wren asked.

“Big dude. Like, really big. Cropped hair. Beard.”

“I saw him at the Connection Circle,” said Wren, her eyes widening. “He sat next to me.”

Nausea roiled in Wren’s stomach. She stopped eating. Tina and Wren paid for their meal and walked to Tina’s car. Tina answered a phone call from Hank, which filtered through the Bluetooth in the car.

“Connor said he saw movement in the house,” said Hank. “Wren, he may have entered the house through the back. Be on your guard.”

Wren held her breath and nodded stiffly. “Okay.”

Tina glanced at her. “I’ll drop you off and circle round the back, okay? Hank, you and Connor are ready to go in, right?”

“We’re ready,” said Hank. “Remember, Wren: He needs to approach you. Don’t go looking for him, okay? And we’re gonna need a confession in order to lock him up for the other rapes.”

“Got it,” Wren said. Tina pulled into Wren’s driveway. Wren got out of the car, waved goodbye to Tina with a strained smile and walked toward the house. Her heart thumped forcefully, fluttering the pulse in her throat. She swallowed as she withdrew her keys and unlocked the front door. She stepped inside the house and closed the door behind her. She hesitated before locking the door. She couldn’t arouse suspicion. Running a hand through her hair, she turned on the lights to the living room. Her keys fell from her hand and clattered to the floor when she saw a large man standing in the living room. He wore a mask, but Wren had no doubt that it was Zachary Pruitt. He held a vase of blue and white hydrangeas. Wren’s heart palpitated wildly.

“Wrenley,” Zachary greeted.

Wren stood frozen. “W-who are you?”

“Shh, it’s okay,” said Zachary, placing the vase onto the coffee table. “I’m here to help you.”

Wren held up a hand. “Don’t take another step toward me.”

Zachary paused, his eyes narrowing beneath his mask. “How am I supposed to make love to you, Wrenley?”

Wren nearly gagged. “What?”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I want to start a family with you. How does two or three children sound? I brought your favorite flowers, too. I’ll take you dancing. How would you like for me to hold you close all night, listening to your favorite indie music?” Zachary stepped closer.

Wren stumbled back, a cold sweat washing over her. She shook her head. “N-no, not with you.”

Zachary’s eyes twinkled. Wren swore he was smiling underneath the mask as he stepped closer, his footsteps heavy against the floor. Wren’s heart slammed against her chest. Where was Connor? Tina? Hank? Chris? Where the fuck were they? Why hadn’t they come to help? A lump formed in Wren’s throat and suddenly she wished she hadn’t locked the door, arousing suspicion be damned. She was a little too good at playing the part. She had locked herself in with a rapist.

“We’re going to have a wonderful family, Wrenley,” said Zachary. He cupped Wren’s neck with his large hand. Wren tensed and shifted her feet into a fighting stance. The sound of the front door’s handle turning caught Zachary’s attention. But Wren’s backup was locked outside. Wren cursed herself. She curled her hand into a fist and jabbed upward, aiming for Zachary’s throat. He coughed and stumbled back, his eyes wide. Wren didn’t wait for Zachary to recover himself and hurried for the front door, trying to unlock it. But Zachary grabbed her by the hair. She let out a strangled cry as Zachary wrenched her away from the door and slammed her against the wall. Pain seared through Wren’s back and head.

“You stupid bitch! I’m trying to help you!” Zachary bellowed. He threw Wren to the floor. Wren rolled to her back as Zachary towered over her. He moved to stomp on her ribs, but Wren caught his foot and twisted it, knocking Zachary to the floor. As he tried to sit up, Wren swung her leg and kicked him in the face. A sickening crunch brought a smirk to Wren’s lips. Zachary roared and cradled his bleeding, broken nose.

Somewhere in the back of the house, a window shattered. Wren glanced in its direction. Zachary punched Wren in the chest, knocking her back to the floor. He scrambled over her, pinning her down with his massive weight. One of his hands closed around her throat while the other worked to unbuckle his pants.

“Detroit Police! You’re under arrest!” shouted Hank, entering the room.

“No!” shouted Zachary, squeezing Wren’s throat tighter. She rapid-fire punched his gut, loosening his grip on her throat.

Suddenly, Zachary’s weight was taken off of Wren completely. She gasped and coughed as air rushed into her lungs. Connor pinned Zachary face-down into the floor. Connor’s knee dug into Zachary’s back. He forced Zachary’s arms behind his back and handcuffed his wrists. Tina helped Wren to her feet.

“You okay?” Tina queried.

Wren nodded, still stunned as Connor and Chris loaded Zachary Pruitt into the back of Chris’s cruiser. Hank holstered his gun, panting slightly. “Why the fuck did you lock the goddamn door?”

“You said not to… arouse suspicion,” Wren breathed. “I didn’t think a single woman would leave her front door unlocked.”

“Okay, next time, don’t overthink it,” said Hank, shaking his head. He patted Wren’s shoulder. “Good thing Connor’s great with breaking windows with his elbow.”

“Good thing you can kick ass,” said Tina, her arm over Wren’s shoulders.

Wren smiled sheepishly. “He was _huge_.”

“Yeah, I hate to think how much worse off you’d be if you didn’t have some fighting capabilities,” said Tina.

Hank nodded. “C’mon. Let’s get a confession out of this guy.”

Wren walked toward Hank’s car. Connor promptly ignored her as he slid in the front seat. Wren’s heart shrank. She clambered into the backseat. Hank drove them to the station, where Wren, Hank, Connor, Chris and Tina met in the interrogation room, watching Zachary Pruitt nurse his broken nose through the two-way mirror.

“So,” drawled Tina, “who wants to get the confession?”

“I will,” said Wren. “He’s off guard with me anyway.”

“Good idea,” said Tina.

Wren dipped her head, her heart fluttering at the thought of the others observing her. She entered the interrogation room, case file in hand. Zachary raised his eyebrows at her.

“How’s your nose?” Wren asked, taking a seat.

Zachary moved the bloody rag. “I don’t think I deserved this. What am I even under arrest for?”

“You really have no idea?” Wren tilted her head. “Well, attempted assault, attacking an officer, and three counts of rape.”

“I think you’re the one who assaulted me.”

“You grabbed me first,” said Wren, “and you’d broken into my house.”

“That’s not really your house,” droned Zachary, placing the rag under his nose. “This was all just a ploy because you have no evidence linking me to these women.”

Wren narrowed her eyes. “You think you’re going to talk your way out of this one?”

“The only evidence you have is circumstantial,” taunted Zachary.

“Except for the part where you tried to attack me,” said Wren. “You used the same M.O. So that _circumstantial_ evidence? Yeah, not really circumstantial anymore because it led us to _you_.”

The color drained from Zachary’s face. “You’ve got nothing.”

Wren folded her hands on the table. “I know you used to work in the maternity ward as a nurse. I know your wife left you. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because she didn’t want kids and you did.”

“Shut up,” muttered Zachary.

“You want to know how I’ve come to that guess?” Wren continued, opening the case file. She withdrew pictures of the victims and laid them in front of Zachary. She withdrew the questionnaires, too. “All of these women said ‘yes’ to wanting families. The more kids they wanted, the better. And you told me that we were going to start a family. You raped these women because they wanted families. They wanted children, so you raped them.”

“No, no, no!” Zachary shouted. “I didn’t hurt them! They wanted it. They wanted families! They want to be pregnant!”

“You _did_ hurt them, Zachary,” Wren argued, withdrawing pictures of bruises on the women. “You held them down because they tried to fight back. You hurt these women. They didn’t want to be pregnant, not the way you were trying to force them to be. I bet that’s why your wife left you.”

Zachary shook his head. “No, no, no, no, no, no! I was helping them. They wanted to start families.”

“You weren’t helping Sidney, the android,” said Wren. “She can’t get pregnant. There’s no reason you should’ve attacked her. You’re sick.”

Zachary sneered at Wren, placing the bloody rag onto the table. His nose was horribly crooked. Dark bruises were already forming under his eyes and his face had swollen considerably. Blood smeared across his face and settled into the cracks of his lips. “You think you understand me?”

“I’m trying to,” said Wren. “I don’t understand why you think raping these women was helping them. I don’t understand why you raped Sidney. I don’t know why you’d think I’d want you to do this to me.”

Zachary’s smile faded as he gazed down at the pictures of the victims. His eyes softened. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But you fought back.”

“So that made it okay?” Wren spat.

Zachary shook his head. “You want a family, and you have no one. No one who loves you. No one to make a baby with you.”

Wren gritted her teeth. She forced herself to relax. “I lied on my questionnaire to get you to target me. I don’t think I can have kids.”  

Zachary looked up at her, tears filling his eyes. “You… You poor woman. You’ll always be _empty_.”

A chill rippled down Wren’s spine. “Why did you do this?”

“I wanted them to have babies, like they’re supposed to,” said Zachary.

“But what about Sidney?” Wren pressed. “She can’t have kids.”

Zachary peered down at Sidney’s picture. Wren resisted the urge to snatch the picture away, to protect Sidney from Zachary’s violating stare. Zachary pressed the rag to his nose again. “I wanted to make love to her. I wanted her to know that not all humans hate androids. I tried to impregnate the others, but… Sidney… She was so pretty. She still wants to be a mother, too. I wanted her to know that… She’s so pretty…”

Wren’s mouth dried. She glanced toward the two-way mirror. They had their confession. Wren gathered up the pictures and placed them in the case file. She turned to leave, to get the hell out of that room. Her stomach churned.

“You’re really pretty, too,” said Zachary.

Wren stopped to look at him. Nausea roiled in her stomach. “Excuse me?”

Zachary smiled and leaned forward. “You wish that I could’ve made love to you, don’t you? I bet you just haven’t been with a man with a strong enough seed. You can have kids. You just need someone man enough to give them to you, to fill that emptiness in you.”

Wren lifted a brow, though she trembled. “No thanks.”

Zachary smirked. “You’ll always think of me.”

Wren stiffened. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. She covered her mouth as bile surged up her throat. She shoved the case file into Connor’s hands.

“Wren, you alright?” Chris called. Wren ignored him and ran out of the interrogation room. She sprinted to the bathroom, burst into a stall, doubled over the toilet and vomited.

_Jonah held her down, his hand clasped over her mouth. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes and into her hair. Jonah grinned._

_“You’ll always think of me, baby. No matter who you’re with. You can leave me, but you won’t ever find anyone else like me.”_

Wren wretched again, but nothing left her stomach. She shook as she stared at the vomit floating and swirling in the toilet. The acrid stench burned her nostrils. The bathroom door opened. Wren flushed the disgusting contents, but remained kneeling on the floor.

“Wren? Are you okay?” Tina asked.

Wren twisted so that she sat on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest. She pressed her back against the stall wall. Tina stood in the doorway, her brow furrowed. Wren nodded.

Tina scowled. “You just vomited and you look like shit.”

“Just… a rough case.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Tina, rubbing her forehead. “Is it true? You don’t think you can have kids?”

Wren shrugged, her body still quivering. “I was in a car wreck several years ago. Fucked up my uterus. I wouldn’t be surprised if I can’t.”

“Have you ever gotten checked out?” Tina queried, squatting down.

Wren shook her head. “I’ve been too busy with my career… I don’t really want kids right now.”

“So what’s bothering you, then?”

“He… He just brought up a lot of bad memories. About my ex.”

“Hank’s nephew?” Tina frowned.

Wren shook her head. “Before Blaise. I dated this other guy… He was a lot like Zachary Pruitt in many ways.”

Tina scoffed. “Men,” she muttered. Wren glowered at her friend. Tina sat beside Wren and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry this brought up some bad shit for you. I’m glad you got out of that last relationship. I’m glad you’re here and you’re my friend. Wanna come with me and Chris to get drinks tonight? You look like you need a shot or six.”

Wren managed a laugh. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Tina withdrew a pack of gum from her pocket and handed a piece to Wren. “Your breath smells like vomit.”

Wren grimaced and shoved the gum into her mouth. “Thanks.”

“Let’s go type up a report. We’ll have fun tonight.” Tina stood.

Wren followed suit. “I’m gonna try and make myself look a little more alive, okay?”

“Okay. See you in a few.” Tina left the bathroom.

Wren approached the sink and gripped its edges. She raised her eyes to meet her reflection. Her skin seemed paler than usual. Redness tinged her eyes. She turned on the cold water and rinsed her face several times. She dried off with a paper towel. Finally, she looked a little more alive. She left the bathroom and considered ignoring Hank’s blatant stare, but decided to walk over to him. She sat beside his desk.

Hank leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

Wren nodded. She glanced toward Connor, who avoided her gaze. Her stomach twisted, but she met Hank’s gaze. “Yeah. This all just… triggered some memories. I’ll explain more later. Tina and Chris want me to get drinks with them after work. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, just keep your phone on ya. When you’re done, text me or Connor to come get you,” said Hank. He patted Wren’s shoulder.

Wren looked at Connor, who ignored her. She sighed and walked over to him. “Are you mad at me?”

Connor looked up at her. “Why would I be mad?”

“You tell me,” said Wren, lifting a brow. “You’re the one avoiding me.”

Connor looked away, his brow furrowing. “I’m not… mad, Wren. I…” He pursed his lips and stood abruptly. He stalked to the breakroom, which was empty. Wren followed him. Connor spread his hands and turned to face her. “I didn’t like seeing you in danger, alright? This feeling… I don’t know, it washed over me, and… I didn’t like it.”

Wren’s heart warmed, despite Connor’s visible distress. “You were worried about me?”

Connor stilled. His eyes widened and his lips parted. He looked as though he were struggling for a moment. Then, his expression fell in defeat. He lowered his gaze and dropped his hands to his sides. “Yes. I was worried about you.”

Wren pressed her lips together and stepped toward him. She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m okay, Connor. Thank you, though. It means a lot to me.”

Connor lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Are you alright? You left the interrogation room rather quickly.”

Wren looked away. “Some of the things he was saying bothered me, that’s all. I’m okay now.”

“He was wrong,” Connor stated firmly. Wren furrowed her brow and looked up at him. “You’re not empty. And you’re not alone.”

“I know,” Wren murmured. She wrapped her arms around Connor’s middle. He seemed hesitant to return the embrace, but his arms folded around her after a moment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren downed her third shot. She lifted her head, her face flushed. She giggled as she waved at Jimmy to give them another round.

“Okay, okay, okay,” slurred Tina, “most embarrassing moment. Mmm… Go.”

“Oh, I got this,” said Chris, downing his fourth shot. He grimaced and shuddered before grinning. “This was before me and Rochelle got together, ‘nd I was tryna impress her, y’know?”

“Oh, Jesus,” said Tina.

Chris giggled. “Shut up, shut up, lemme finish. We were walking along this levy with some friends, and we were playin’ some music and smokin’ some pot.”

“Oh, naughty,” Wren chuckled.

Chris snorted, tears leaking from his eyes. “Rochelle likes men who can dance, ya know? So I decided to twerk down the hill. I thought it’d be a good idea. I tripped and ended up somersaulting backwards down the fuckin’ hill into the dirt.”

Wren and Tina doubled over with laughter. Tina wheezed and wiped tears from her eyes. “Well, she married you, so obviously she was impressed.”

“Yeah, there’s that,” Chris chuckled.

“Okay, my turn,” said Tina, sitting up straight. Wren downed her fourth shot. She no longer even tasted the burn. Her head spun and she could hardly keep her eyes open. She wondered why Tina and Chris did not seem as affected. “So, I was seeing this movie with my two friends. And it was this really fuckin’ sad movie and the theatre was packed. I _really_ had to piss. Like, _so_ bad. So I get up to go pee, but it’s the quietest part of the movie. And I fucking trip and fall on the floor. Like, guys, I smacked the floor so hard that everyone heard it. And I heard the _wind_ of people’s heads turning to look at me. My thong was hanging out and everything and I, like, army-crawled out of there.”

Wren laughed so hard she cried. She couldn’t breathe as she doubled over, giggling. She took a moment to calm herself, tears streaming down her face. She looked at her shot glass, which had been refilled. She downed it. “Tina, if I’d seen someone fall like that, I’d’ve been like, ‘Oh, shit, are they okay?’ But then if I saw you dead-ass fuckin’ _crawl_ out of there, I would’ve shit myself!” Wren dissolved into giggles again.

Tina laughed. “I didn’t have any fucking dignity! I wasn’t slow about it! I scuttled out of there like a goddamn spider!”

Wren laughed harder and squeezed her eyes shut. Suddenly, she was no longer in her seat. She felt herself fall to the floor in slow-motion, giggling the whole way down.

“Oh, fuck! Wren, you good?” Chris demanded, looking down at her.

Tina sniggered down at Wren. “Man, get your shit together!”

“She should go home,” said Jimmy.

“You can’t hold any alcohol, Wren!” Tina scolded, helping Wren sit back on her stool. Wren giggled breathlessly.

“I climbed out the bathroom window and tried to run away the other night! Connor tackled me in the front yard!” Wren laughed.

“Why the fuck did you climb through the bathroom window?” Tina laughed.

Chris took Wren’s phone and dialed Connor’s number. “Hey, you wanna come get her? She’s gone, man. Like, so drunk. Twenty minutes? Yeah, we got her.”

Wren snickered. “I don’t even remember!”

“Jesus, Wren, you are so drunk,” Tina snorted, holding Wren steady.

“Here’s some water,” said Jimmy, placing a glass on the bar.

Tina helped Wren take a sip, but Wren was too giggly to drink all of it. Chris left after a while. Tina called a cab that would arrive around the same time Connor would. Wren danced around the mostly empty bar, snickering. Tina laughed at her.

When Connor entered the bar, Wren brightened upon seeing him. She hurried toward him and threw her arms around his neck. “Connor! It’s my favorite android!”

Connor patted her back. “Hello, Wren. Are you ready to go home?”

“Yes,” Wren slurred. She unlinked her arms from Connor’s neck and returned to the bar. She hugged Tina goodbye, who stepped out of the bar to get in her cab. Wren grabbed her phone and wallet. She shuffled past a man sitting at one of the tall tables across from the bar. In the narrow space, Wren brushed against him. The man smacked her on the rear.

“Why don’t you come make my night, sweetheart?” he slurred.

Wren looked over him, swaying on the spot. She narrowed her eyes at his greasy hair. “With you? Ew, no.” She turned away, but the sleazy man grabbed her by the wrists.

Connor stepped forward. “She said no. Take your hands off of her.”

The man squinted at Connor. “Who the fuck are you? Fuckin’ android. Why don’t you get your metal ass outta here and fuck some Traci? Little Miss Red here is gonna fuck my brains out.”

“Nooope, I’m not,” said Wren, “you’re gross.”

“Gross? Come on baby, don’t be like that,” purred the man. Wren grimaced as his hot breath washed over her face.  

“Sir, if you don’t let her go, I will have to neutralize you,” said Connor calmly.

“Neutra-what? Thought I told you to fuck off? What, you don’t like me feelin’ on your friend? Wish you could, but she doesn’t wanna fuck you?” The man grinned and groped Wren’s breasts.

“Hey!” Wren yelled. She slapped the man’s face, but in her drunken state, it was more like a pat on the cheek. Wren tired to think around the alcohol fuzzing her brain. “I’d much rather fuck him than you!”

The man’s grip tightened on Wren’s wrist. Connor reached forward and broke the man’s grasp easily. With a hand on Wren’s back, Connor led her toward the exit.

“Hey!” called the sleaze. “Don’t take my girl!”

“Not your girl, dickturd!” Wren yelled back.

Connor and Wren stepped out into the night. Connor walked her toward the parking lot. Wren stumbled over the uneven concrete, but Connor caught her. “Are you alright?”

Wren nodded. “Mhm…”

Connor jerked away from Wren rather suddenly. She stumbled back, her eyes widening. The sleaze from the bar had grabbed Connor and swung a drunken punch at the android. Connor dodged it without much effort. Connor sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it.

“Sir, I suggest you stop before you hurt yourself,” Connor advised.

“Fuck you, you plastic fuck. I’ll tear ya to pieces and set them on fire in a dumpster where you belong, you stupid machine,” spat the sleaze.

Wren reacted before she thought. She punched the man in the side of the face, breaking a second nose that day. “Don’t talk about him like that, asshole!”

Connor released his grip on the man and walked over to Wren. He glanced down at her hand. “You’ve knocked a few of your fingers out of socket.”

“Easy fix,” Wren muttered. Connor placed a hand on her back once more and guided her to Hank’s car. He helped her into the passenger seat before circling around to the driver’s side. Wren gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. She watched as lights rolled over Connor’s face as they drove home. Wren felt as if she were floating. She watched another soft glow from the streetlamps outside the car illuminate Connor’s face. His freckles were cute.

Connor’s brow pinched and he looked at Wren. “What?”

Wren froze, her eyes widening a fraction. Shit. Had she said that aloud? “What?”

Connor tilted his head. “I thought you just said…”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wren said quickly. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. She prayed he bought it. Connor frowned but returned his focus to the road. By the time they reached the house, Wren was mostly asleep. Connor helped her out of the car, supporting most of her weight. Wren tried to open her eyes, but they felt so heavy. She was vaguely aware of Connor sitting her down on the couch.

He brought her aspirin and water. “Don’t take the medicine until you’ve had a chance to sober up,” Connor advised, “but you should hydrate.”

Wren nodded and took a deep sip from the water. Connor took the glass and set it down. She managed to open her eyes as Connor crouched in front of her. “What’re you doing?”

“Looking at your hand,” Connor replied. Wren glanced down at her left hand, the one she’d used to punch the drunken sleaze. Her synthetic skin had dissolved. At the joints, her fingers curled at odd angles.

Wren laughed. “Yeah… Was too drunk to use the right form… I didn’t even make a fist… I just jammed my hand at him. Good thing my limbs don’t feel pain.”

Wren started to laugh. Connor smiled slightly and shushed her. “You’ll wake Hank.”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Wren covered her mouth with her free hand. She sputtered out a giggle. “I haven’t had alcohol in years… And I don’t have human arms and legs anymore so I’m a lightweight now… But don’t tell anybody that I can’t hold my alcohol.”

Connor’s lips twisted with a small smile. Neither of them seemed to notice that Connor’s hands were still folded over Wren’s hand. “I won’t tell anyone. You should rest, Wren.”

Wren nodded. She pulled her hand free from Connor’s gentle grasp and laid down. “Yeah, ‘m gonna feel like shit tomorrow… Hey Connor?”

“Yes?” Connor said as he straightened from his crouch.

“Thanks for getting that guy off me…”

Connor softened. “Of course.”

“Wish he had come at me sober… I’d have beat his ass…” Wren’s eyes fluttered shut, and she missed the smile on Connor’s lips as he gazed at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH your comments are feeding my dead soul!!!   
> Really though, I've been trying so hard to get this out to you guys. Grad school is killing me and it's only week 2. But writing this is very stress-relieving, so I work on it a little bit each day. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this extra AF chapter.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Connor greeted Hank with a small smile as the older man padded into the living room, his silver hair mussed from his sleep. Hank peered over the couch at Wren, who buried her face in the pillow. A smirk pulled Hank’s lips upward. He entered the kitchen. It was not long before the aroma of coffee filled the house. Connor stood and joined Hank in the kitchen.

“Get out the frying pan, would ya?” Hank said, his head halfway in the fridge.

Connor furrowed his brow but did as Hank requested. Hank withdrew from the fridge with bacon. “I thought you had agreed to eat healthier.” 

Hank sipped from his coffee. “Hangovers are a bitch,” he responded, setting his mug down. “Wren’s gonna need something greasy. And if we’re talkin’ healthy, if we do the keto diet, bacon is perfectly legal.”

Connor pressed his lips in response. He watched Hank splay several slices of bacon onto the frying pan. They sizzled as they heated. Hank turned them over with a pair of prongs. Connor grabbed a plate and set it beside the stove.

“What time did she get home?” Hank asked, flipping the bacon again.

“Officer Miller called me around midnight, but I did not arrive at the bar until 12:30, and we did not leave until 12:45. We got home at 1:15.”

“Thank you for the play-by-play,” snorted Hank. He peered over his shoulder. Connor followed Hank’s gaze. He scanned Wren’s vitals.

“She’s still asleep,” Connor murmured.

“Why’d it take you guys so long to leave the bar?”

Connor pushed a breath through his nostrils. “Wren was very intoxicated when I arrived. There was a man trying to take advantage of her and was not cooperating with me. He tried to start a fight, but Wren… neutralized him.”

“Neutralized, so… Knocked him out?”

“Yes.”

“While drunk?”

“She knocked a few fingers out of socket.”

Hank snorted. He flipped the bacon again and prodded it with the prongs. “She’s okay, though?”

“Yes,” said Connor. “Though I do believe she will suffer the repercussions from last night’s drinking.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Hank.

Connor pushed his eyebrows together, mulling over the things Wren said that night. “Hank, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Can you trust what people say while intoxicated?” Connor avoided Hank’s raised eyebrows.

“She say somethin’ to you last night?” he queried.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Hank huffed and removed the first few slices from the pan and placed them onto the plate. Connor laid a paper towel over them to soak up some of the grease. Hank laid down new slices, sending the grease in the pan sizzling anew.

He shrugged. “I’d say it depends. Sometimes people say things they don’t mean. Sometimes… people don’t mean to say things that they do mean. Alcohol can hinder your ability to hold things back. What’d Wren say?”

“Nothing… bad,” Connor admitted, folding his arms. Warmth touched his cheeks. “She said my freckles are… cute.”

Hank tossed his head back and laughed. His shoulders shook with his cackling while Connor stared at him, straight-faced. Hank grinned and shook his head as he flipped bacon. “Something’s wrong with her if she thinks your goofy-lookin’ face is cute.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “I’m _serious_ , Hank.”

Hank shrugged. “Why does it matter if she meant it or not?”

Connor worked his jaw. Why _did_ it matter? He told himself that it didn’t. Wren said that while drunk. It was not life-changing for her to say that his freckles were cute, even if she _did_ think that. Yet, he failed to ignore the warmth that spread through his chest and filled his lungs. He opened his mouth to insist that it did not matter what Wren thought of his freckles, but movement on the couch prompted him to slam his mouth shut with a decisive _click_.

Wren jumped from the couch and ran to the bathroom, a blur of red hair and sweatpants. Connor raised his eyebrows and moved to check on her, but Hank held out a hand to stop him.

“Let her get it out on her own, kid,” he advised.

Connor nodded and leaned against the counter. “Why does anyone drink if this is the result?”

“This is just the result of drinking too _much_ ,” said Hank. “I drink… You know why I drink.”

“Yes,” murmured Connor.

“But when you go with friends, it’s less to hurt yourself and more… I dunno. It can be fun, I guess. Drinking for me hasn’t really been fun in a long time,” Hank flipped the bacon again and pushed it around in the pan.

After a few minutes, Wren emerged from the bathroom, a hand pressed to her forehead. She sat at the kitchen table and buried her face in her arms. “I hate _everything_.”

Hank snorted. “Don’t worry, the bacon should help.”

“I left a glass of water and medicine on the side table last night,” Connor reminded her.

“My head is _pounding_.”

“The medicine should help with that,” Connor insisted. “You should hydrate before you eat as well.”

“Why are you yelling?”

Hank laughed as Connor frowned. “I’m not yelling.”

Wren lifted her head. “Oh. Sorry.” She stood –rather shakily, Connor noticed –and padded into the living room. She drank some water and then took the pills Connor had left out for her. She returned to the kitchen, still nursing the glass of water.

“Have fun?” Hank queried.

“Yeah,” said Wren. “I just don’t think I’m going to drink again for a while.”

Hank snorted. After a few minutes, Wren stood from the table and helped make bacon sandwiches. She fixed herself a cup of coffee, which Connor observed, noting how much creamer she used. The three of them sat at the kitchen table.

Hank slurped his coffee. He set it down while Wren took a bite of her sandwich. “So, when are we going to plan a trip to visit your parents?”

Wren stopped chewing. Connor slid his gaze toward her, watching the color drain from her face. She lowered her eyes to her plate and picked at her food. She resumed chewing and did not answer until she had swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t wanna visit them?” Hank demanded.

Connor glanced at the tightening of Wren’s jaw. She gripped her coffee mug tightly, to the point that her knuckles whitened. Connor glanced at Hank, who peered at Wren with drawn eyebrows. Wren lifted her gaze. “I don’t know.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Hank questioned.

“Ten years, Hank,” Wren snapped. She lowered her gaze. “Nearly eleven. That’s how long I’ve been dead to them. That’s a long time to grieve and move on from someone. I don’t want to disrupt their lives…”

“Wren, listen to me,” Hank murmured, a softness dulling the edges of his gruff voice, “My son has been gone for seven years. But if he walked through that door right now, it would be disrupting my life in the best possible way.”

Connor’s thirium pump seemed to twist. He knew the pain of losing Cole still ached within Hank’s soul. He would do anything to alleviate that sorrow if he could.

Wren looked up and sighed. “Hank… I don’t even remember my family. I’m just going to hurt them. Look, we know who I was now. W-we can try to find Prometheus by retracing my steps…”

Hank held up a hand, silencing Wren. “Kid, shut up for a second. This isn’t about tracking down Prometheus. This is about you. You need this. You will never find closure if you don’t try. And your parents? I’m sure they won’t care where you’ve been or that you don’t remember. Well, they’ll care, but they’re not gonna throw you out because of it. I would give anything to have Cole come back. I’m sure your parents would do the same for you.”

“What if… What if I was a bad person, Hank?” Wren whispered. Connor’s chest stung for her. Wren folded her arms around herself. “I mean, I was already a Red Ice addict. Who knows what else I was up to?”

“It doesn’t matter who you were, kid. What matters is who you are now, and who you decide to be. That’s the hardest decision you’ll ever make, but we’ve been watching you these past few months. You’re on the right path,” Hank murmured. He glanced at Connor, who nodded. He remembered Hank giving him similar advice before his deviancy.

Connor looked at Wren. He tried to find the right words to help her, but they failed him. Wren averted his eyes. She shrugged, but Connor knew how much this affected her. “I don’t know, Hank.”

“We’ll be with you the whole time, kid. You’re not alone,” said Hank.

Wren looked from Hank to Connor, who nodded and offered her a small smile. The corners of her mouth twitched in return. She inhaled and nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Almost as soon as they entered the police station, Captain Fowler stepped out of his office. “Connor! Wren! My office, _now_.”

Connor’s eyes stretched and he looked at Hank, who frowned. “Well, he doesn’t seem happy. Good luck, you two.”

Connor exchanged a glance with Wren, who grimaced. They headed to Fowler’s office, Connor’s thirium pump palpitating at an alarming rate. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He opened the door and allowed Wren to enter first. Connor ducked inside the office, heat prickling up his neck. They stood in front of Fowler’s desk. Connor clasped his hands in front of him.

Fowler peered up at them underneath his scowling brow. “Had an extra early complaint today.”

Connor frowned. Complaint? He resisted the urge to look at Wren.

Fowler leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “I’m friends with Jimmy. He’s not a fan of violence at his bar. He’s not a huge fan of androids provoking said violence, either.”

Connor’s lips parted as a chill rippled down his spine. “I…”

“Connor didn’t provoke anything,” Wren snapped. “Some prick got a little handsy with me. Connor tried resolve the issue without violence, but the guy wouldn’t listen.”

“I know,” said Fowler. “His name’s Dade Abbott. And he came in early this morning, and Jimmy confirmed that it was the two of you causing trouble. Need I remind you both that you represent Detroit’s finest?”

“It wasn’t Connor’s fault,” Wren insisted, stepping forward. “It was mine. I was drunk, Mr. Abbott was threatening to light Connor on fire, I lost my temper and punched him. Connor was just trying to get me home.”

“Look,” snapped Fowler, rubbing his face with his hands, “Mr. Abbott’s an asshole. On that, we agree. But now _we’ve_ got to pay for his broken nose. Next time, don’t resort to violence unless absolutely necessary.”

Connor frowned and tilted his head. “Jimmy didn’t see this, but Mr. Abbott attacked us first. We shouldn’t have to pay for his nose. I record every memory, so I have proof that Mr. Abbott started the altercation and pursued it, even after we tried to leave.”

Fowler lifted his eyebrows. “Proof, huh?” He rubbed his mouth. “Good. You just made my morning much better, Connor. Look, I know that Mr. Abbott’s a prick. He’s been through here a few times. Just keep in mind that you represent this force. Try to break less noses, Officer Morgan.”

Connor glanced at her. She dipped her head. “Yes sir.”

“And, uh, it’s time you switched partners, Morgan. You’re gonna be working with Detective Reed in homicide until you’re ready for a promotion. You’ve done some good work. I was impressed with your handling of the undercover case. That might be a route for you to pursue,” said Fowler.

Wren beamed. “Thank you, sir.”

“Get out, you two. You’ve got work to do. Connor, I want you to send me the recording of the altercation, please.”

Connor dipped his head. He and Wren stepped out of the office. Wren descended the steps before turning to look back at Connor, blowing out a breath that puffed out her cheeks.

“I thought he was going to skin me alive,” she breathed.

Connor’s lips twitched. “I doubt he would have,” he assured her. He paused before parting ways with her. “Thank you for defending me.”

“I’ve got your back,” Wren said, grinning.

One corner of Connor’s mouth upturned. “I wouldn’t have let him skin you alive, either.”

Wren laughed. “Thanks.” She groaned. “Guess I better go play nice with Detective Douchebag.”

Connor smirked. “Good luck with that.”

“My hero,” Wren mocked. She saluted him and strode off. Connor watched her go, a strange feeling washing over him. He shook it off and walked over to his desk, a small smile firm on his lips.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor was glad when the week ended, ready for a day off. The new case he and Hank worked on seemed to dead-ended. Two dead androids, both former Traci models, shot in the head, execution style. There was no link between the two androids, save for their model and the way they were murdered. There was no evidence, which meant that either another android had killed them, or the human who killed them was very skilled. Every lead that Connor and Hank followed led to nowhere.

Connor looked forward to tomorrow afternoon, as he and Wren planned to stop by Jericho for a visit. Wren and Hank cooked tacos and picked out a movie. Wren insisted on a Marvel movie, as Josh pestered her every day to watch them now that she had a phone.

“Okay, but we’re not watching the remakes,” said Hank. “No one will ever make a better Iron Man than Robert Downey Junior.”

The three of them crowded on the couch and watched the first Iron Man movie. Connor liked JARVIS especially. It also warmed his biocomponents to know that Tony Stark still turned out a hero, despite his mistakes. Connor often found himself looking at Wren during the movie. Her eyes shined as she laughed, danced when Pepper and Tony shared intimate moments and shadowed when Tony suffered torture. Watching the emotions flit across Wren’s face fascinated Connor, though his thirium pump seemed to shrivel a little. He worked his jaw and turned his head toward the screen again. He wished his emotions fanned across his face as easily as they did on Wren’s. It seemed CyberLife designed him to remain reserved. Even deviancy did not fix his mellow expressions.

Hank drifted off to bed after the movie ended. Wren, however, stayed up to read. Connor felt her lean against him as she read. Connor read over her shoulder, though he reached the end of the page far quicker than she did. In fact, she was a rather slow reader. Connor’s lips twitched. He shifted, thinking that he could not possibly be a comfortable thing to lean against. Wren moved away from him, and he felt her absence in a wash of cold air.

“Was I bothering you?” she queried after she ended her chapter. She closed the book and glanced at him.

Connor examined the shadows under her eyes. He frowned. “You weren’t bothering me,” he assured her. The lines around Wren’s mouth seemed more prominent, too. “You haven’t been sleeping.” He checked the time. It was nearly one in the morning. His frown deepened.

“I can’t,” Wren muttered, folding her legs. She faced Connor on the couch.

Connor’s throat constricted. “Wren, you should sleep. It isn’t good for your heart to get so little sleep. Your skin shows the signs, too.”

Wren pressed her lips together and averted Connor’s gaze. She lowered her head, allowing her hair to hide her face.

**< <scan>> [Elevated Body Temperature] **

**˅Wren**

“Thanks,” Wren muttered.

Connor cursed himself silently. He tilted his head toward her, trying to catch her eyes with his. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”  

Wren looked up. “I know I _should_ sleep, but I can’t.”

Connor’s shoulders sagged. “Is there anything I can do?”

**˄Wren**

She smiled. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you ever go into standby mode?”

The soft upturn of Connor’s lips vanished. He opened and closed his mouth and then swallowed. “It… It isn’t mandatory for me to, like it is for you.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly at her.

Wren’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, but… Isn’t it like recharging? It’s good for you, right?”

Connor clenched his jaw and looked away from her. “It is.”

“So, why don’t you? Is it just boring? Or is it something else?”

Connor rubbed his hands together. “It’s something else.”

Connor glanced down when Wren placed a hand over his. He flicked his gaze to hers. The tenderness in her gaze struck him. “You can talk to me, Connor.”

He looked away from her again. “CyberLife installed a graphic interface called the Zen Garden in me. It was how I reported to CyberLife without actually having to go to CyberLife every day. I had a handler named Amanda. She was an AI who oversaw me and my investigations. I reported to her through the interface after each case. After I deviated, she sucked me back into the Zen Garden to resume control of my program. If I hadn’t found the emergency exit, I would have done something unforgiveable.”

“‘Emergency exit?’” Wren questioned quietly.

Connor’s chest tightened. He took a deep breath. He trusted Wren with this, even though he had not told anyone. Wren had trusted him with some of her secrets. He could not look at her, though. “After I became a deviant and after the humans evacuated Detroit, Markus gave a speech to the androids. I was on the platform with him when I was pulled into the Zen Garden. Amanda told me that my deviancy had been planned from the beginning and that she’d been waiting to resume control of my program. She was controlling my body while I was stuck in the Garden. I found a way out because of some information that Kamski gave me. There was this… stone. I interfaced with it, and it freed me from the Zen Garden. When I returned to my body, I was holding a gun and raising it to point it at Markus. If I hadn’t escaped my programming, I would’ve assassinated Markus. I could’ve single-handedly destroyed the revolution. I could’ve killed the android who chose to trust me when he had no reason to.”

He slid his gaze to Wren’s, expecting to see her recoil. Instead, she gaped at him. “ _Holy shit_ ,” she breathed. Connor said nothing, merely gazing at her as she processed the information. She looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Who all have you told?”

Connor met her gaze. “You.”

Wren’s eyes widened. “You’ve kept this to yourself?”

Heat spread across Connor’s cheeks and his biocomponents seemed to roil. He swallowed before answering. “I was afraid that if I told anyone, they wouldn’t trust me anymore.”

“That’s… I’m not shaming you for not telling anyone, Connor,” Wren murmured. She squeezed his hand. “I meant that you’re not alone. And I doubt they would turn away from you. You could’ve told Hank.”

Connor pressed his lips together. “I saw no reason to.”

“So, why tell me?”

Connor looked at her, his lips twitching. “You asked.”

“Oh,” Wren lowered her gaze.

Connor looked at her hand over his. “It’s stupid of me, because I used the emergency exit in my programming, so she should be gone, but… I suppose I’m afraid that if I go into standby mode, I’ll see Amanda and she’ll trap me in the Zen Garden.”

“That’s not stupid at all, Connor. I’d be scared, too.”

Connor glanced at her. “Did you… Did you have a handler?”

“In a graphic interface? No. My processor isn’t advanced enough for that.” Wren withdrew her hand. Connor’s thirium pump seemed to sink and his hand itched to take hold of hers.

Connor met her gaze. “You should get some sleep, Wren.”

She nodded, averting his gaze. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

Connor’s chest tugged. “Thank you for not making me feel crazy or stupid about it.”

Wren’s eyes snapped to his. “Connor, I would never want to make you feel crazy or stupid about something bothering you. Or ever. If I ever do, you have my permission to punch me square in the face.”

Connor’s lips upturned. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” He stood and retreated to his armchair as Wren settled in for the night. Connor switched off the lamp.

Several minutes passed before Wren said, “If you ever want to go into standby mode, I can try interfacing with you to make sure Amanda’s gone.”

Connor’s thirium pump softened like melted metal. “Thank you.”

Wren hummed in response and rolled over. Connor’s lips fanned into a soft smile as he gazed at her slumbering form.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor sat in Josh’s office with Wren, though she seemed absent. They discussed the books Josh had given them, going over some of the themes and interesting parts. They lingered on _Waiting_ by Ha Jin. Connor and Josh went back and forth over who the main character truly loved –his mistress or his wife.

“That’s the thing, though,” Wren interrupted dully. Connor and Josh looked at her. “He doesn’t know who he loves. He has no self, so he can’t really discern what he truly wants in a relationship. That’s what his sexual fantasy dream meant. She was a faceless woman. He’s in love with the idea of a perfect love, but that’s just a dream. He will always be waiting for life to lead him, waiting for something to happen. He leaves his wife, only to want to go back to her. So he’s going to wait for his mistress to die. But when she does, and he goes back to his wife, he’ll be waiting for something else.”

Josh’s eyebrows raised and a smile lit up his face. “Have you ever thought about teaching?”

Wren snorted softly. She rested her head on her knuckles. “No, I wouldn’t know how to teach this to someone. I don’t even get ideas until someone kind of leads me into it.”

Connor furrowed his brow. He exchanged a glance with Josh, who wore a similar expression. Josh leaned forward. “Wren, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem… frustrated.”

“Oh,” said Wren, rubbing her forehead, “I’m just tired.”

Connor’s lips tugged downward. Her reasoning was not _unlikely_ , per se, but her attitude seemed to stem from something deeper than just lack of sleep. They left Josh’s office after a while to stop by North’s.

North beamed at them as they entered. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey,” said Wren, plopping into the chair across from North’s desk. Connor pulled up another one and sat beside her. He offered North a small smile in greeting.

“Connor, do you just… alternate between grey blazers? You know there are other colors, right?” North said, narrowing her eyes at Connor’s clothes.

He glanced down at himself. “I… I have a black one as well. And a darker grey one.”

“Oh boy,” North muttered with a roll of her eyes. “Next time we go shopping, you’re coming with us. Which reminds me…” She opened a drawer to her desk and withdrew an envelope. “This came for you yesterday.”

“Me?” Connor queried, taking the envelope.

“Just read it,” said North, biting her lip to hide a grin.

Connor opened up the envelope and withdrew a thick piece of paper with cursive writing on it.

_You are cordially invited to CyberLife’s charity GALA in honor of the Android Liberation Movement._

Connor blinked, scanning the address, date and time of the event. He frowned and looked up at North. “CyberLife?”

“It’s not what it sounds like,” said North, watching as Connor handed the invitation for Wren to look over. “Markus has been in contact with Elijah Kamski. He’s partnering with Markus to take over CyberLife. It’ll be like a hospital and research center specifically for androids. We can ensure the continuity of our species, make sure prototype models like yourself have biocomponent replacements in case of an emergency, things like that.”

“How long has this negotiation been going on?” Connor queried as Wren handed the invitation back to him.

“Markus contacted Kamski after CyberLife shut down shortly after the liberation. They’ve been negotiating ever since.”

Connor looked down at the invitation. “Why me?”

“You’re considered one of the leaders of the liberation,” said North, lifting an eyebrow. “You awakened all those androids at the CyberLife Tower. It was _your_ idea. Without all those androids, there would only be a few hundred of us. The soldiers might not have retreated from the camps. You were very influential, whether you feel like you were or not,” said North, her lips quirking.

Connor felt Wren’s eyes on him. His cheeks warmed. “Oh.”

North smirked. “And you have a plus one.”

“Plus one?” Connor queried, lifting his head.

“Yeah, a date,” said North. Her eyes flicked to Wren. “You’ll need to get a suit and your date will need a dress. Or suit. Whoever you ask needs to be dressed to the nines.”

“Oh,” Connor said again. He cleared his throat. “I’ll think about it.”

North’s smirk widened. She turned to Wren, her amusement fading. “An ST300 came by the other day. Sidney. She said you’d sent her.”

Wren perked up, straightening in her chair. “How is she?”

“As you’d expect,” said North, her brow puckering. “But I made sure she got the help she needed. That was really nice of you to send her my way.”

Wren shrugged, pink tinging her cheeks. “I felt bad for her, like she had no one. I knew you’d make sure she felt cared for.”

North’s lips pulled into a soft smile. It faltered after a moment. “Wren, are you okay? You look dead inside.”

Connor looked at Wren, expecting her to brush North off, but Wren’s shoulders slumped and she looked at the floor as she mumbled, “I dreamt about my parents last night.”

Connor’s lips parted. His chest clenched. Why had he not asked? He had just accepted her reasoning.

“And?” North prompted. Connor pinched his brow. North could stand to be a little less callous.

“And… I don’t know. Sometimes, I gain a memory based off something I encounter, and… I know it wasn’t real, that it was just a dream, but I was happy. I had parents and a brother, and we were hiking… When I woke up, I _missed_ them. How can I miss people that I don’t even remember?” Wren looked up, her brows pushed together and her eyes glistening. Connor’s chest tightened.

“If you’ve found your parents, why don’t you go see them?” North pressed, her brow pinching.

“It’s not that simple.”

North sighed. “It _is_ that simple, Wren.”

“I just haven’t decided, okay? On the one hand, of course I want to see my parents. On the other, I’m terrified that if I see them, they’ll tell me about who I used to be and that I was some shitty person or something.”

“The indecision is what’s making you miserable, though. Either act or don’t. Not deciding is torturing you. You need to decide to close that door or walk through it.” North shrugged.

“Oh, like you have with your past?” Wren snapped. Connor’s eyes stretched as he glanced between the two women.

North seemed unaffected by Wren’s scathing tone, however. “I’ve come to terms with it. I chose to close that door and haven’t looked back since. I’m okay with my decision. But if you choose to walk away from your parents because you’re _afraid_ , you can’t bitch about missing them, too.”

Connor frowned. “North…”

“She’s right. I need to make a decision,” Wren sighed. She folded her arms. “Do I want to be a coward or do I want to face this?”

“You don’t strike me as a coward, Wren,” said North. “I think you and I understand that in order to get what we want, we have to fight for it. Whether that be physically or just facing something like this, we know what we have to do. Don’t let fear stand in your way.”

Wren sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. Thanks for letting me bitch.”

“Anytime,” North chirped. She turned to Connor. “You’re coming to the gala, or I will kidnap you myself.”

Connor lifted a brow as he and Wren stood to leave. “Threatening the police, North?”

“You don’t scare me,” North challenged.

Connor smirked. “I should. I’m one of the leaders of the liberation.”

North laughed. “That’s the spirit.”

They left North’s office and headed toward Markus’s, only to find him locking it. He brightened when he saw Connor and Wren. “Hey. I didn’t expect you two here.”

“We asked Josh if we could visit,” said Wren. Connor glanced at her. She still seemed rather conflicted.

Markus’s brow wrinkled. “Are you okay?”

Wren snorted. “Geez, I must really look like someone kicked my puppy if everyone’s asking.”

Markus’s lips twitched. “Usually you seem livelier. And you look like you haven’t slept. Is everything okay?”

Wren laughed. “Honestly?”

Connor nodded along with Markus.

Wren’s smile vanished. “No.”

Markus looked between them. “Are you guys busy?”

“No,” said Connor, “we were just going to head home.”

Markus clucked his tongue thoughtfully. “I was about to head out. You guys wanna join me?”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 _Colorful_ popped into Connor’s mind as he stepped into Carl Manfred’s house. Mansion, really. It contrasted Hank’s house immensely. Connor liked the colorfulness to Carl’s abode. At first, Connor and Wren protested to Markus taking them to Carl’s, as Markus visited Carl every weekend to paint. Markus assured them that they would not be intruding, and that Carl wanted to meet some of Markus’s friends. Carl met North and Josh already, so it was only natural that he meet Connor and Wren.

Connor smiled placidly as Carl rolled into the foyer, his skin dotted with age. His thin lips quirked upward. “You must be Connor. Markus spoke highly of you. I’m Carl.” He extended his wrinkled hand.

Connor suppressed a smile and shook Carl’s hand. “Likewise, Carl.”

Carl looked at Wren. “You must be Wren.”

Wren raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Yes sir.”

Carl chuckled. “No need to call me sir. Makes me feel old.” He shook Wren’s hand.

“You _are_ old,” said Markus, his lips upturning.

“I don’t feel old,” said Carl. “That’s the secret to immortality.” He winked at Wren and tapped his temple.

Another android, an AP700 model, stepped into the foyer. “I’ll be back in a few hours, Mr. Manfred.”

“Thank you, Matthew,” said Carl, smiling pleasantly. Matthew dipped his head and left the house. Carl turned to Connor, Wren and Markus. “So, who’s ready to paint?”

They followed Carl through the foyer, into the living room and through a set of sliding doors. They stepped into a massive studio. Carl turned his wheelchair to face Connor and Wren. “I saw you march with the androids, Connor. Very impressive.”

Connor’s cheeks heated. “Oh. All I did was march.”

“You did more than that,” said Markus, setting up three easels. He walked over to the edge of the studio to grab three blank canvases.

Carl glanced at Markus, his eyes twinkling. “I was so proud of Markus.” He looked at Connor. “I’m proud of all androids. I’m sure this hasn’t been easy. I know I’ve had to help Markus through his fair share of difficulties. Even North has approached me for advice. She’s a nice girl. Fiery, but all women have their fire.”

Connor glanced at Wren, whose lips twitched as she met Carl’s gaze. Markus handed out palettes and paintbrushes. Connor approached the white canvas, his brow furrowing. “I… I don’t know how to paint.” His cheeks burned.

“Me neither,” admitted Wren. Connor’s systems cooled, knowing that Wren shared his discomfort.

“Oh, it’s easy,” said Carl, rolling his chair behind Connor and Wren. Markus had already begun working on his painting. “Close your eyes and imagine giving shape to your feelings and abstractions. What colors are they? What do they look like? Envision something that doesn’t exist in the physical world.” Immediately, the Zen Garden violated Connor’s mind. “Think of your emotions tied to it… What do they look like? How does it change? Turn this abstraction into something tangible, into art.”

Connor opened his eyes and jumped to work. He lost track of time as he painted the Zen Garden, blistered with winter. He painted figures without faces, but they were distinguishable to him. He painted himself on his knees, wearing his old CyberLife-issued jacket. Amanda held a hand on his shoulder. He reached forward. Connor added figures in the back. He painted Josh, Tina and Chris. He painted Markus a bit closer and North closer still. The two closest figures reached for Connor’s figure. He kept the lighting around the figures of his friends soft and pastel, while Amanda’s and his own figure were hushed in darkness, except for the hand of Connor’s that reached toward Hank and Wren’s figures.

Connor set down his palette and paintbrush, satisfied with his work. Carl rolled over. “Connor, that’s beautiful. The way the light centers around these figures show signs of hope and the darkness around this one shows despair… Very insightful.”

Connor’s chest puffed out, though he avoided Markus’s curious gaze. Carl drifted over to Wren. Connor moved to get a clearer view of her painting. At first, it looked like black scribbles. Then, Connor realized that it was a figure on their knees, their head buried in their hands. He figured that Wren kept the portrait messy intentionally. It tugged at his thirium pump.

“You seem to be experiencing a lot of inner turmoil, dear,” said Carl quietly.

Wren shifted her weight to her hip. “Oh. It’s just a painting.”

“The art we create is a direct reflection of ourselves, Wren. It communicates with the people who look at it. If I were to look at Markus’s painting, I’d say he’s a man striving for peace and equality.”

Connor walked over to Markus’s painting. Two hands, one dripping in red and the other dripping in blue, reached for each other, their fingers brushing. Human and android. Connor returned to Wren’s painting, Markus joining them with folded arms.

Wren frowned. “He’s your son, Mr. Manfred.”

“Not convinced?” Carl guessed, his eyebrows lifting. “This is the first time I’ve met Connor. Looking at his art, I’d say he’s a man struggling inwardly as well. I’d guess that there’s someone or something that makes him feel trapped, be it himself or an actual person. But he’s aware of the people who care about him that reach for him in his life, and he wants to connect with them, too. He sees them as his salvation.”

Coldness struck Connor’s thirium pump. He worked his jaw and shifted, icy heat tingling down his spine and to his fingertips. He glanced at Wren, who avoided his gaze. She crossed her arms.

“And I’d say you’re a woman struggling with a lot of inner darkness and pain. You feel you’re breaking apart and you feel you don’t know yourself,” Carl said as he tilted his head, staring at Wren, whose face flushed pink. Connor furrowed his brow. He wished he could take Wren’s pain. Carl reached for Wren’s hand. She took his hand, her brow wrinkling. “I don’t say this to trouble you, dear.”

“Yeah, I’m already pretty troubled, apparently,” Wren joked weakly.

Carl placed his other hand over Wren’s. “Several months ago, before Markus was a deviant, he painted the portrait of a screaming man with no identity. Now, he’s painting portraits that show humans and androids reaching each other and beginning to connect. He doesn’t paint identity portraits anymore because he knows who he is now. A lot can change as events unfold. You’ll grow from this, if you give yourself the chance.”

Wren looked up from Carl, the color trickling from her face as she met Connor’s gaze. His lips parted as he stared at her, unable to form coherent speech.

They left Carl’s house shortly after, promising to return to paint again, to see how their perspectives changed. The ride to Jericho thudded with silence. Markus walked Connor and Wren to Hank’s car.

“I’m sorry if Carl made you guys uncomfortable,” said Markus. “He… He kind of peers right into your soul.”

Connor glanced at the car keys in his palm, his brow pinching. _Soul._ He wondered if he possessed one. He doubted if he would ever receive an answer. He glanced at Wren, whose lips twitched. “I think we needed to hear what he said.”

Markus patted Wren’s shoulder. “We should all hang out some time, outside of Jericho. Carl keeps telling me to get ‘the human experience.’ Maybe we can all catch a movie or something.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” said Wren, nodding. She seemed tired, though she smiled. Connor nodded, offering Markus a mile twitch of his lips. Markus left them with a dip of his head. Connor climbed into the driver’s seat while Wren slid into the passenger side. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

For a while, Connor assumed that Wren had fallen asleep. Then, she croaked, “You painted the Zen Garden and Amanda, didn’t you?”

He shifted. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry if I uprooted any anxiety by asking about it.”

“You didn’t,” Connor assured her. His brow pinched. “I needed to talk about it. I need to _face_ it.”

“I’m here if you need me,” said Wren.

Connor pulled into the driveway. He shut the engine off and twisted in his seat to look at her. “So am I,” he said. Wren peered at him under a furrowed brow. Connor leaned toward her. “I’m here if you need me.”

Wren stared at him. For a moment, Connor feared that he crossed some sort of line. Wren’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. She pursed her lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. Connor froze.

**[wh4tY29ubm9yIGZlZWxzIGZvciB3cmVuisY29ubm9yIGZlZWxzIGZvciB3cmVul0v3]**

Wren buried her face in the crook of his neck, dampening his synthetic skin with her tears. Connor wrapped his arms around her slowly, feeling her warmth pressed against him. He turned his head, pressing his cheek against her hair.  

“I wasn’t alone in the Garden,” he murmured.

“I noticed.” Wren’s voice sounded more like a whimper.

Connor’s brow pinched and his throat constricted. He swallowed. “Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t know.” She gripped him tighter. Connor mimicked the gesture. “I know I’m not alone in the Garden, though.”

One corner of Connor’s mouth quirked upward. He held Wren until she was ready to let go, which was not long after her statement. She pulled away, her eyelashes clumped together with wetness. The end of her nose glowed red. The dark circles under her eyes seemed more pronounced. Connor drew his eyebrows together.

“You should really get some sleep tonight,” he said.

Wren nodded. “I’ll try.”

They exited the car and entered the house. Hank stood in the kitchen doorway, his cell phone in hand. “Where have the two of you been? I was just about to call.”

“I’m sorry,” said Connor, shutting the front door, “I should’ve called and told you where we were.”

“You’re adults,” Hank shrugged. “You don’t need permission or anything.” He frowned and squinted at them. “What’s all over your hands? Is that… _paint_?”

Connor looked at the dried paint flecks on his hands. He exchanged a glance with Wren, who smiled softly. She turned to Hank. “Markus took us to Carl Manfred’s house to paint.”

Hank blinked spastically. “Carl… Manfred. You got painting lessons… from Carl Manfred,” he muttered. He blew out a breath. “How was it?”

Wren glanced at Connor again. He looked at Hank, his lips slanting with a smirk. “Therapeutic.”

“Smart-ass,” grumbled Hank. He looked at Wren. “You look like you’ve been crying. Everything okay?”

Wren’s humor faded as she bobbed her head. “I… I, uh, did some soul-searching today.”

“Oh?” Hank queried, his eyebrows raising as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Find anything interesting?”

“Sort of,” said Wren, her voice shaking a little. She straightened and lifted her chin. “I want to see my parents.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone be interested in me posting a song at the beginning of each chapter? I have a playlist for Connor and Wren that helps me capture their relationship. This isn't a songfic, so the chapters won't necessarily match up to the song's lyrics and theme, but I thought it might be interesting. Idk.   
> Also, I know this chapter was a bit of a filler, but next chapter is going to be a doozy. Might have to split it into two, depending how long it gets. So, it might be a while before I update again! Anyway, thank you guys for being so understanding, and thank you for all your comments and kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions and other shows of support! I love hearing from y'all!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Wren read all of the books Josh loaned her on the drive to Ellsworth. Hank and Connor alternated driving, though Wren never took the wheel. When Hank asked if she wanted to, the color drained from her face. He had quickly retracted his request, and Connor suggested he drive Wren’s shifts.

“I’m really sorry,” Wren muttered from the passenger side while Connor drove. Hank sprawled across the backseat, asleep.

Connor glanced at Wren briefly. “There’s no need to apologize. I don’t get tired like you and Hank do.”

“Yeah, but… You deserve a break, too,” Wren shrugged.

Connor’s head tilted slightly. “Are you afraid because of your accident?”

Wren lifted an eyebrow. “How perceptive of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Wren rubbed her forehead. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“Anxious?” Connor guessed.

Wren sighed. “Yeah.”

“It’s alright,” said Connor. Wren looked at him and softened.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Connor’s brow twitched. “For what?”

“For…” Wren trailed off. “Being you.”

Light slid off Connor’s face as they passed underneath streetlamps. He slowed the car to match the speed limit outside and seemed focused on driving, but Wren caught the twitch of his lips. She noticed how his mouth seemed to resist stretching into a small smile.

Wren glanced at the clock. 8:12 PM. They had split the drive into two days, since it was nearly a twenty-hour drive. While flying would have been easier, they decided that Wren going through a metal detector was not such a good idea. Wren unfolded her legs to stretch her hips and twisted in her seat to stretch her back.

“We will arrive in twenty-three minutes,” Connor murmured.

Wren’s heart jumped into her throat. She folded her arms to disguise her trembling. “Should we wait until morning to see them?”

“No,” said Hank from the backseat, leaning forward. “We have a limited time here, so we shouldn’t waste time.”

Wren’s pulse fluttered. Her heart seemed to parkour inside her chest. She curled her fingers into fists and tucked them under her arms. She focused on steadying her breathing.

Ten: Hank’s hand rested on her shoulder.

Nine: Tall trees towered over them as they drove along.

Eight: They were just outside city limits.

Seven: Early evening stars shined in the twilight sky.

Six: Both of Connor’s hands gripped the wheel tightly.

Five: The lines around Connor’s mouth hardened, pronouncing his frown.

Four: He furrowed his brow.

Three: His eyes sparkled in the dying light of day.

Two: His freckles constellated his skin.

One: She cared for him more than she should.

Wren’s heart twisted sharply in her chest, stuttering her breath. In her years of working for Prometheus, though they saved her life after her accident, she never felt alive. She existed, a ghost flitting in and out of the walls, a succubus eating men’s hearts and licking the blood off of her lips only to return to hell with chains around her wrists. Love had been violent and never free for her and her life had been one torment after another. Prometheus suffered Zeus’s wrath, but Wren took Prometheus’s place, and became its prisoner while it raked its claws through her, only to heal her and cut her again. Prometheus was the monster who ate her intestines, only to stuff them back inside her, stitch her up and do it again. She no longer knew if she were Persephone and Prometheus had her trapped in Hades with promises of spring and freedom, or if she was Hades, lurking in the shadows, damned to damn the evils into eternal punishment. She was not Death, she was the judge. Or, she had been when she worked for Prometheus.

But Connor had brought her home. He had pulled her out of the shadows, pulled her straight out of the hell of her own mind. She had not expected to find home in Detroit, especially with Hank and Connor. But their house no longer felt like a prison, but home. Occasionally, the darkness threatened to pull Wren back, but Connor was always there, offering a hand to pull her back. Did that make him Hades, or Persephone?

Wren shook her head at herself. She really needed to stop reading so much mythology.

Connor slowed the car to a stop in front of a large colonial-style house. Wren could just barely make out the mint green color of the exterior in the dusk. Connor gazed up at the house, his lips parting. He looked at Wren, his eyes capturing hers.

She knew what war felt like. But looking into his eyes, Wren knew what peace felt like, too.

“Ready, kid?” muttered Hank.

Wren tore her eyes from Connor’s to look at the house, but his eyes remained on her face, holding her. She let out a deep breath. “No.” She pushed open the car door. Connor shut off the engine and got out of the car, Hank following. Wren led the way up to the front door, Connor and Hank flanking her. Her hand shook as she reached out to knock on the door. Her knuckles hovered over the wood.

“It’s alright,” murmured Connor. Wren glanced at him. His eyes smiled as he dipped his head to her.

Wren nodded stiffly and faced the door. She closed her eyes, let out a breath, and knocked on the door. She stepped back and gripped Connor’s hand. His fingers hesitated before curling around her hand. Her anxiety did not leave, but she felt a bit stronger. He was solid while her knees shook. He was gravity that kept her from drifting into the void.

The door opened and Wren stopped breathing. A woman who resembled Wren stood in the doorway, her brow puckered. Her eyes flitted from Connor, to Wren and to Hank. And then they returned to Wren. The woman’s frown deepened, harshening the creases in her face. Then, the frown in her brow melted. Her eyes widened and her lips parted.

“ _Wrenley_?”

Wren opened her mouth but found she could not speak. She still had yet to breathe. Tears burned and blurred her vision. The woman –Wren’s mother –threw her arms around Wren, who stumbled, still gripping Connor’s hand. Wren glanced at Connor over her mother’s shoulder. The lines of Connor’s forehead tightened. Wren placed her free arm around her mother.

“It’s me,” she croaked.

Shannon Blanchard pulled away from Wren, her dark red hair sticking to her tear-streaked face. “You… How are you… Where have you… We thought you were dead!”

“Mrs. Blanchard,” said Hank, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “we can explain everything. But it’s gonna take a while, and it isn’t gonna be easy.”

Shannon stared at Wren, her mouth hanging open. She wrenched her gaze from Wren to acknowledge Hank. “Who are you?”

“I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson and that’s Detective Connor. We’re with the Detroit Police Department,” said Hank, showing his badge.

Shannon Blanchard looked at Connor for a moment. Wren relaxed when she saw no hostility in her mother’s demeanor as she turned to Hank. “Police? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Blanchard,” said Hank, “this is just a bit of a complicated situation.”

Shannon nodded slowly, her face pale. She avoided looking at Wren. “Of course. C-come in. There’s a lot of explaining to be had, I suppose.” Shannon led the way inside.

Wren looked at Hank, who stepped in first. She looked at Connor, who met her gaze. She still held his hand. His eyes glowed in the light that flooded the porch. Wren squeezed his hand before she let it go and stepped inside her family’s house. Wren paused in the foyer, glancing at the table pushed against the white paneled walls. On the table sat picture frames. Wren looked at them, tears blurring her vision. She blinked them away as she lifted on of the frames. Connor stood next to her, examining the picture, too.

It showed a man who Wren recognized as Charles Blanchard from the photos she’d seen at the DPD while researching herself. Next to her father sat Shannon, her mother. Sitting in front of them was a young man in his early twenties. He resembled Charles, with light brown hair and eyes. He grinned at the camera, his arm placed loosely over his sister’s shoulders. Wren peered at the sister. It was her. She gazed into her younger self’s blue eyes, alight with joy. She wore an open-mouthed grin, as if she were laughing at something. Her hair hung past her breasts. She looked about eighteen in the picture.

Wren placed the picture back onto the table. She sniffled and wiped her eyes before jerking away from the pictures. She did not want to look at memories she no longer had.  

 They stepped into the living room. The ceiling was high with exposed beams. A cobblestone fireplace adorned one side of the room. The couches were dark grey, with white fuzzy blankets folded across the backs of them. A set of stairs stood to the left. To the right was the doorway to the kitchen. Shannon gestured to the couches.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” she breathed. “I’ll… I’ll go get Charles.” She left the room.

Hank sat down on one of the couches. Connor followed suit, but Wren remained standing. She crossed her arms and looked around the room. She trekked toward the hearth, where more framed photos decorated the mantle. “They never took my pictures down.”

“What?” Hank asked.

Wren cleared her throat. “They never took my pictures down.”

“They never stopped loving you, kid,” said Hank quietly. Wren turned to face him.

“Is it too late to leave?” she asked.

Hank’s lips upturned. “Just a bit, kid.”

Wren pursed her lips and paced the room. She was aware of Connor and Hank’s eyes following her movement, but the idea of sitting and waiting for her parents to reenter the room scratched at her brain like a rat.

“So,” said a deep male voice, stopping Wren in her tracks, “you’re alive.”

Wren turned to face her parents. Charles Blanchard towered over Shannon. He folded his arms taut across his chest as he narrowed his eyes at Wren, who shrank back. The color trickled from her face. She had killed men much larger than her father, but she felt like a kitten under his stare.

Charles stepped into the room, his boots thudding against the floor. He glanced at Hank and Connor. Charles’s shrewd eyes roved over Hank and observed Connor. As soon as his eyes rested on the LED on Connor’s temple, Charles glowered.

“And you’ve brought an _android_ into my home,” he said coldly. He stepped closer to Wren, who resisted the urge to back away. Her father’s eyes were brown, but not like Connor’s. How was it that the android’s synthetic eyes were softer and warmer than her father’s? Charles’s expression softened, but only slightly. He pulled Wren into a hug. She stiffened and her eyes widened. Her father released her before she could return the embrace. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Charles sat on the couch beside Shannon, facing the couch upon which Connor and Hank sat. Wren joined Connor and Hank, squeezing herself between them. She relaxed when her shoulders brushed theirs. She resisted the urge to take both of their hands in hers. Connor moved his hand closer to her, brushing her knuckles with the back of his hand. Wren’s fingers twitched to acknowledge him.

“So, why don’t you start with why you’ve brought a stranger and an android into my house?” suggested Charles, leaning back.

Wren glanced at her mother, who avoided her gaze. Wren straightened. “They helped me find you.”

“Find us? What do you mean?” Shannon looked up, tears in her eyes.

Wren’s heart tugged. “I mean… After the car wreck… I didn’t… I…” She looked around helplessly.

“She lost her memory,” Connor offered. Wren met his gaze and mouthed her gratitude. His lips twitched with a soft smile.

“You…” Shannon breathed, drawing Wren’s gaze to her, “you don’t remember us?”

Wren pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I wish I could.”

Shannon bowed her head. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Wren’s throat swelled with a lump. She swallowed. Charles huffed. “But where have you been? What’ve you been doing? How’d you survive?”

Wren tensed. “I… Uh, someone saw the crash and drove me to the nearest hospital. They managed to save me, but I was in a coma and they had to airlift me to a better hospital. When I woke up, I didn’t remember anything, except part of my name. But I was in a different town, so… I just started over. I’ve been drifting for the past ten or eleven years. I ended up in Detroit recently, and I started working as a cop. Hank and Connor helped me find you. They’ve been… They’ve been really good to me.”

More than good, Wren thought. _So much more than good_.

Shannon shook her head, the corners of her mouth stretching downward. “God, that accident… We thought you were dead… We looked for you, but the police said you must’ve been… d-dragged off by an animal! We never gave up, not really… God, James! Y-your brother, James, h-he lives in Ellsworth still. He visits your grave every day. W-we need to tell him that you’re alive, and okay…”

A chill settled in the pit of Wren’s stomach. “Grave?”

“A memorial,” muttered Charles. “We didn’t have anything to bury, but we…” He stopped and clenched his jaw. Wren’s chest tugged to see her father show emotion.

Shannon wiped her eyes. “We couldn’t do _nothing_.”

Wren curled her hands into fists. Hank laid a hand over hers. She closed her eyes for a moment before relaxing her hands. She held Hank’s in hers. Then she gripped Connor’s. She lifted her gaze to meet her parents’. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”

Shannon shook her head. “Sweetheart, you’re here now. I’m glad you did find us. And I’m glad you… You weren’t alone out there.” Shannon’s eyes flicked to Hank and Connor, a small smile twisting the corners of her mouth.

“Where are you guys staying?” Charles asked.

“We haven’t made arrangements anywhere yet,” said Hank.

“Stay with us! We have a guest room and your old room…” Shannon trailed off when Charles looked at her.

“The _android_ is going to stay?”

“Charles, don’t be that way,” Shannon scolded.

“Androids have destroyed this country! I’ve every right to _be that way_.”

“Connor’s my friend,” Wren gritted out, gripping Connor’s hand tighter.

“Humph. Whatever.” Charles stood and stomped out of the room.

“Well, he’s a ray of fuckin’ sunshine,” said Hank.

Wren looked at him. “Hank!”

“No, it’s okay,” said Shannon, holding her hands palms forward. “Charles isn’t much of an android supporter.”

“I can make arrangements elsewhere,” said Connor.

Shannon shook her head. “Don’t be silly. He’ll get over it. The two of you have been taking care of Wren, so you’re more than welcome to stay.”

Wren tilted her head. “Why… Why aren’t you calling me Isabelle? That’s my name, right?”

Shannon gaped at Wren for a moment. “It is,” she said, “but we haven’t called you by that since you were… Eleven, I think. You told me it was too girly and that there was another girl at school with that name. You just came downstairs one day and told us to call you by your middle name. I think it fit you better than Isabelle, anyway.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

Shannon stood. “Lieutenant, I can show you the guest room. Wren, your room is upstairs and to the right. Connor… You don’t sleep, do you?”

“No, Mrs. Blanchard,” said Connor. He offered her a pleasant smile. “I can entertain myself.”

Shannon looked at Wren and Connor’s hands, still intertwined. “Well, I was going to say that you could take James’s old room, if you want. It’s upstairs to the left.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Blanchard.”

“You can call me Shannon,” said Shannon, smiling slightly. Hank patted Wren’s knee before standing.

“I’ll see you in the mornin’,” he said.

Wren nodded. Shannon turned to Wren, her brow pinching. “How long are you staying?”

“A few days,” Wren replied.

Shannon relaxed. “I can call James and let him know… He can meet you again.”

Wren held her breath and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you…” Wren swallowed. “Mom.”

Shannon’s eyes brightened. She placed a hand to Wren’s cheek. “You’re welcome, baby girl.”

Wren blinked back tears. Shannon thumbed Wren’s cheek, her eyes –blue, like Wren’s –sparkling with tears. She glanced at Connor, a smile tugging at her lips. She dropped her hand. Wren watched her mother lead Hank out of the room.

“Wren?” Connor queried after several seconds passed.

Wren blinked and glanced down at their hands. She let go of his hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Connor assured her. Wren looked at him, their noses bumping. She drew back slightly.

“Come on,” she breathed. She stood and led Connor up the stairs. She did not remember the house per se, but she felt like she did. The floorboards beneath her feet were soft with familiarity. The taupe walls hugged her close, bringing forth memories that danced away before she could remember them. She stopped in front of the door to the right. The door stood closed, but she knew it was her room. She turned the brass handle and pushed the door open. It creaked and Wren stepped inside her room.

It was clean, but it looked as though nothing had really been touched in ten years. It looked like a teenage girl’s room. A pair of ballet slippers hung over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. The bed was wrought white iron with a sage bedspread. A dresser stood across from the bed. A bookshelf stood next to the window. A vanity set stood against the right wall, nearest to Wren. Framed photos decorated the bookshelf, dresser and vanity set. A bulleting board hung on the wall behind the bed. Pictures, ticket stubs and notes decorated the board. Wren glanced around, trailing her fingers along the surface of the vanity set. She crossed the room to the bookshelf and examined it. A notebook sat on top of the bookshelf. She opened it and thumbed to a random page.

_08.15.18_

_I rode my bike to Christine’s house today. We made an evil plan to get Jonah to like me! Mwahahaha!_

A blush crept up Wren’s cheeks as Connor neared her. She quickly flipped to a different page, not wanting Connor to read her fourteen-year-old self’s thoughts.

_03.25.22_

_I can’t believe I’ve finally graduated high school! I thought I’d never get out of this town. I can’t wait to start school. I’ll miss my friends… But GOD am I ready to get out of this place! And Dad is driving me nuts. He can be such a dick to Mom and I hate watching it. But Mom never does anything about it. I can’t wait to get away. Maybe the distance will help._

Wren looked up, her eyes wide. Connor’s LED flashed as he processed the information. His brow furrowed. “Your parents seem to have a strained relationship.”

Wren nodded and closed the notebook. She set it on top of the bookshelf. “That was the last entry, too.”

“Perhaps reading this will help you remember things,” said Connor, picking up the journal. He offered her a pained smile. “Or, at the very least, give you a sense of what you were like and how you grew up.”

Wren snatched the journal from him. “I’m not sure I want to read my teenage girl thoughts. Embarrassing stuff.”

Connor tilted his head. “But it might help you.”

Wren looked at the journal. “Yeah, it might.”

“We could read it together.”

Wren narrowed her eyes as she looked up at Connor. “I’m not sure I want _you_ to read my embarrassing thoughts.”

“I understand,” Connor replied, though the droop of his shoulders suggested otherwise. He turned to leave. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you,” Wren called. Connor switched off the light and stepped out of the room. Wren sighed and opened up the journal. She started from the beginning, read two entries, and stopped. She set the journal aside and laid down, staring up at the ceiling. She laid there for several minutes, listening to the _clink, clink, clink_ of the fan.

Persephone, Hades, Prometheus. Clink, clink, clink. Connor, Wren, Prometheus. Wren, Connor, Prometheus. Wren, Prometheus… She rolled over, gripping her pillow as her head pounded in tandem with the clinking of the fan. The pillow smelled of lavender and vanilla. Had she once smelled of lavender and vanilla? What did she smell like now? Blood and gunpowder? Did she smell like a grave? Did the rot of the underworld cling to her clothes like cigarettes staunched avid smokers?

Wren pushed up from the bed and swept out of the room. She stopped just before the door to her brother’s old room, where she knew Connor sat awake. She paused before knocking on the door. Her inability to sleep was not Connor’s problem. She shifted her weight and backed away from the door. She turned and entered her bedroom, the door creaking. She flopped onto the bed.

If she was Hades, and Connor was Persephone, she was _not_ going to drag him into Hell.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren picked her way across the yard, feeling rather cold despite the sun’s warmth. Hank and Connor walked with her, their footsteps whispering in the grass. They climbed the slope of the cemetery and stopped at the top. Wren read off the names of gravestones as she passed –Prota, Sallow, Kline –and stopped when she reached Blanchard. She walked along the row of stones, stepping on the graves of dead relatives that she did not remember. She wondered if she had met any of these people personally, if they had been kind to her, if they had gushed over how big she had gotten over the years… Had she experienced any awkward moments with these family members?

She pushed the thought from her mind and stopped when she reached the end of the row. Fresh flowers –peonies –decorated the gravestone. It was glossy and black, glinting in the sunlight. It stood among the other gravestones like a god. Carved into it was an inscription.

_Isabelle Wrenley Blanchard_

_December 27, 2004 - ???_

_“Wherever you are, may angels guide you.”_

Wren took in a deep, shuddering breath. Hank placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. Connor stood close enough that his arm brushed against hers. Their knuckles touched.

“Well, look at that. We know your birthday,” said Hank. Wren tried to smile but the corners of her mouth hardly twitched. Hank squeezed her shoulder. “You’re not really buried there, kid.”

“I know,” Wren breathed.

“You’re alive,” Hank muttered, moving to block Wren’s view of her gravestone. Wren forced herself to meet Hank’s gaze. He placed both hands on her shoulders. “You’re alive, Wren. You’re okay.”

Wren forced herself to nod. She swallowed. “I-I’m alive.”

“C’mere, kid,” Hank muttered, pulling Wren into a hug. She clung to him, inhaling his scent. His shirt smelled like laundry detergent struggling to mask the stench of cigarettes, whiskey and Sumo. Wren managed a smile, comforted. Hank withdrew and patted Wren’s arm awkwardly. “You good?”

“I’m good.” Wren offered him a small smile.

Hank dipped his head. He looked to Connor and tapped his temple. “You still got that address stored in there?”  

“Of course,” said Connor.

Hank rolled his shoulders and looked at Wren. “You ready to meet your brother?”

Wren nodded, but her stomach flopped. Hank led the way back toward the car. Wren and Connor fell in step with one another. He said nothing, but his presence was enough to comfort her. Wren slid into the backseat and Connor joined her. She furrowed her brow at him, but he merely offered her a pleasant smile in response. Wren shrugged, not wanting to protest. She liked having Connor near.

She looked at her fingernails and picked at them. Since when had she grown so attached to the android? She supposed it had been too gradual for her to pinpoint the exact moment when Connor wormed his way into her heart. Hank, too. She cared about the both of them. They were no longer her acquaintances, or allies or observers. They were not her caretakers or babysitters. They were her friends. Sure, she had found her bloody family, but in some ways… Hank and Connor were the closest thing she had to a family. She had not felt alive until she lounged on the couch, watching a Marvel movie with Hank and Connor.

Hank parked the car outside of the small house just outside of Ellsworth. The three of them gazed at the yellow exterior of the house. It seemed welcoming enough. Hank twisted in his seat to look back at Wren. “You good?”

Wren nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.” She pushed open the car door and got out, leading the way to the front door with Hank and Connor in tow. She rang the doorbell and waited, holding her breath. The door opened to reveal a tall man. He resembled Charles in a way, though he was far more freckled than Charles. In that way, he resembled Shannon. His eyes seemed kind, not unlike Connor’s. His brow furrowed as he looked at Hank, Connor and Wren. She waited for him to recognize her.

His eyes widened when he did. “ _Wren_?”

“It’s me,” said Wren, offering her brother a small smile that looked more like a grimace.

James Blanchard blinked, his mouth agape. He looked from Hank to Connor and back again. “What the hell?”

“This’ll be easier if you let us explain,” said Hank.

“Yeah, yeah, come in,” said James, opening the door and stepping aside.

Wren pursed her lips and entered the house. The hardwood floor creaked. She stood to the side as Hank and Connor flanked her. James looked her over, his eyes still wide. A rather dazed look clouded his eyes. He gestured to the living room. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

Hank led the way, plopping down on the leather sofa. Wren sat next to him, maintaining her stiff posture. Connor sat beside her, though he balanced his elbows on his knees. If he did not have his LED, one would guess that Wren was the android by the way she sat. She rubbed her hands down her pants and bounced her knees. She stopped when she noticed Connor watching her.

James entered the room with three glasses of water. He set them in front of Connor, Wren and Hank. James stiffened. “Oh. You don’t drink.”

Connor’s lips twitched and his eyes softened. “I appreciate the gesture.”

James nodded jerkily and took the glass. He sat in the armchair across from the couch and sipped from Connor’s former glass. He set the half-empty cup on the coffee table. “So… Uh, Mom told me that something regarding your case had come up, but… I never expected this.”

“I asked her not to tell you,” Wren muttered, her throat itching. She coughed to clear it. Her hands curled around her knees. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

“With an entourage,” pointed out James, his eyes flitting from Connor to Hank.

“Sorry… That’s Hank and that’s Connor. I work with them at the Detroit Police Department. They helped me find you,” said Wren.

“Speaking of finding people,” said James, “uh… You know we’ve been trying to find you for a decade?”

Wren lowered her gaze. “I know. And I’m sorry.” She kept her eyes down as she reiterated the half-truth that she told her parents the night before. The long silence that met her words did not comfort her.

“Do you know how long it took us to find you? She had no idea who she was, except that her name was Wren and that she was in some horrible car accident. Not much to go on,” said Hank.

Wren lifted her gaze to observe her brother. He held his hands to his face as if he were praying. His eyes slid open and he met Wren’s gaze briefly before looking at Hank. “Pretty nice of you guys to come all this way with her.”

Wren glanced between them, pressing her lips together. She met James’s gaze. “They’re like family to me.”

She stared straight ahead when Connor and Hank looked at her. James held Wren’s stare for several seconds. He leaned back, rubbing his palms on his thighs. “Then… They’re more than welcome here.”

Wren’s brow pinched. “You’re not… You’re not mad?”

James’s shoulders slouched. “Wren, why would I be mad? You’re here. You’re alive.”

Wren’s eyes filled with tears. “But… I don’t remember you.”

“I think you do,” said James, smiling softly. “Subconsciously, at least. You wouldn’t be this affected if you didn’t.”

Wren bowed her head. Tears splashed onto her lap. Hank patted her knee. Wren wiped away her tears and lifted her head. “Thank you.”

James looked at his watch. “Listen, I gotta pick up Izzy from school. But… We’ve got some catching up to do. I can take you guys to dinner after I take Izzy to her mother’s.”

Wren frowned. “Izzy?”

James grinned. “My little girl. She’ll be twelve next month. You met her before the accident, but she was just a baby.”

Wren pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m an aunt?”

“Surprise,” James sang, wagging his fingers. Wren laughed. James grinned as he stood. Wren followed suit. James held open his arms. “Can… Can I hug you?”

Wren ran into her brother’s arms, tackling him around the middle. He let out an _oof_ , but returned the embrace quickly and tightly. Wren closed her eyes. Her brother smelled like pine needles and dirt, but it wrapped around Wren like a blanket. She _knew_ this smell.

_“Wren, be careful!” James called from the ground. Wren rolled her eyes as she grabbed the tree branch above her. She pulled herself up and balanced on the branch._

_“It’s sturdy! See?” She bounced on her perch. James placed his hands on the sides of his head, his mouth hanging open, letting out a string of curses. Wren laughed, lost her grip and fell out of the tree backwards. She landed in the bushes not far below._

_“Oh, fuck! Fuck, Wren, are you okay? God, you’re such an idiot,” James rushed over, his eyes wide. Wren snorted as she sat up, twigs and leaves caught in her hair. Aside from several small scratches and one giant-ass bruise, she was fine._

_“You said fuck! You finally said it!”_

_“Oh, fuck you! I saw **your** life flash before **my** eyes…” _

_“Come on, I was barely eight feet off the ground.”_

_“Only,” muttered James, rolling his eyes as he helped Wren out of the bushes. “That’s eight feet too many, doofus.”_

Wren blinked, withdrawing from the memory and from James’s embrace. James patted Wren’s shoulder. “You guys like pizza?”

“Is the Pope a Catholic?” Wren retorted.

James snorted. “Fair point. Why don’t you guys meet me at Finelli’s. It’s a pizzeria downtown.”

“Sure,” said Hank. “What time?”

James looked at his watch again. “Six-thirty?”

“See you then,” said Wren. She gave her brother another hug before leaving the house. A small smile toyed with her lips.

“That went better than with your parents,” said Hank, climbing into the driver’s seat. Wren and Connor sat in the back.

“Yeah,” Wren agreed, releasing a long breath. They were quiet the rest of the drive. When they returned to Wren’s parents’ house, Hank retired for a shower. Wren and Connor headed upstairs. They sat on her bed, flipping through the books from the bookshelf. Connor reached for the journal. Wren snatched it away from him.

Connor frowned. “It could help bring forth memories, Wren.”

“I know.” Wren frowned and looked at it.

“Why are you scared?”

Wren looked up sharply. Connor held her gaze, unbothered by the fire in her eyes. She softened after a moment. “I… I’m remembering things, the more I’m exposed to certain stimuli… The longer I’m away from Prometheus, the more I remember.”

“And?”

Wren sighed. “And… I can’t sort the memories out. There’s no definite timeline. I can’t really tell what memories happened when. They’re out of order.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “You’re afraid this will confuse more?”

“No… I don’t know what I’m scared of, honestly. Maybe I’m scared of what I wrote.”

“You were very young, Wren. I doubt this journal contains anything incriminating.”

“Let me rephrase: I’m scared I’ll be _embarrassed_ by what I wrote.”

Connor tilted his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Wren huffed. “This probably has my deepest secrets in it. Well, when I was in middle and high school, at least. That’s every human’s awkward phase.”

“‘Awkward phase’?”

“Puberty.”

“Oh,” said Connor, lifting his eyebrows. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Androids don’t experience such a phase in life. Though, I suppose you could compare deviancy to puberty.”

Wren snorted. “I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Connor returned Wren’s smile. He laid on the bed and propped himself up with his elbow. Wren stared at him. He looked so… _normal_. Warmth flooded her chest as she stared at him. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She looked down at her journal.

“If we read through this, you have to promise me something,” Wren said.

Connor looked up at her, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. “Anything.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Connor smirked. “I’ll do my best.”

Wren let out a long sigh and opened up the journal. “If this doesn’t trigger anything except shame, I’m blaming you.”

“Did you mean what you said?” Connor asked suddenly. Wren looked up, catching the seriousness of his tone. He averted her gaze.

“What do you mean?” Wren queried.

“You told your brother that Hank and me were like family to you. Did you mean that?” Connor said. He held Wren’s gaze, his brows gathering.

Wren parted her lips and widened her eyes. “Oh. Um. Yeah. I mean… You guys are the closest thing I have to a family, but if that’s overstepping or you guys don’t feel the same way, I understand. I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, and it just kind of slipped out –”

“Wren,” Connor interrupted quietly. Wren clamped her mouth shut, staring at him. One corner of his mouth pulled into a soft, lopsided smile. “We feel the same way.”

**[Path Unlocked: Connor ((and Hank)): Family]**

Wren failed to contain the grin that spread across her face. Connor returned it, albeit softer than hers. She looked down at the journal. “Let’s read through some of these before we have to get ready.”

She skipped the entries that she had already read and opened to the third one.

_09.03.15_

_After dance practice today, I went walking with Christine and James in the woods. Nothing happened._

_12.26.15_

_OMG! For Christmas, I got new pair of ballet shoes and a BIKE!!! I’m so excited! I also got money for music._

_01.13.16_

_Today we played in the snow. James freaked out because he thought he got frostbite, but Mom told him that his hands were just cold, LOL._

_02.14.16_

_There’s a new kid at school. He’s nice. I told him he could sit with us at lunch. He moved here from Portland. His name’s Jonah. I asked him if it was like that guy from the Bible, but he didn’t know who I was talking about._

_03.16.16_

_I think Jonah thinks that Christine, James and I are weird. He doesn’t really hang out with us anymore… but that’s okay. I like the three of us anyway._

_04.24.16_

_I got a D on my math test today. Dad was so mad that he threw a plate. He told me that I’m smarter than that and that I shouldn’t play outside so much. Ugh, I don’t get why he’s so mean sometimes. Mom looks kind of scared sometimes. James tells me to ignore it, though._

_05.30.16_

_I’m so freaking glad school is over! I’m grounded because I never got my math grade up from a C to a B. I’m not allowed to go to the movies for two weeks. So unfair!_

_06.17.16_

_AAAAHHHHH! I hate my dad! He made me clean all of the fricking bathrooms today. So gross._

_07.07.16_

_Today, James, Christine and I are planning to go to that abandoned theatre house in town. We wanna ghost hunt! I’m super excited but also terrified. Apparently, there was some fire years ago that killed everyone in the theatre. I don’t know why it’s abandoned now, but James said we could always go to the library and look up old records to find out._

_07.08.16_

_I’m grounded again. We went into the theatre house, and it’s super rundown. The floor was all dry-rotted and falling apart. I went upstairs to investigate and… I FELL THROUGH THE FREAKING FLOOR!!! I was really lucky and only twisted my ankle, but I can’t dance for the rest of the summer, probably. Dad was pissed. I didn’t tell him that we were in the theatre house (he would probably skin me ALIVE if he knew that). He’s mad that I wasted his money on those dance classes that I can’t go to anymore. So, yep. I’m grounded again._

_08.15.16_

_I get to dance again!!!_

_11.30.16_

_Mom and Dad are arguing again… Mom is upset about the presidential election, I think. Dad is just… Dad._

_02.13.17_

_Stupid Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. Of course, perfect Bailey Saunders and Danny Harris are going to be all over each other. Gross._

_04.16.17_

_I have a solo dance recital coming up and I’m freaking out. I’ve never danced by myself before! I just hope Dad is proud of me…_

_05.31.17_

_Dad said I did well with my recital!!!_

_08.14.17_

_So, um… Today something embarrassing happened. I was climbing a tree with Christine. She told me she has a crush on Danny Harris (GROSS). I slipped while climbing, but the branch caught my shirt. I was literally dangling from a freaking tree with my shirt over my face and my arms up in the air while Christine LAUGHED HER ASS OFF AT ME!!! I had to get out of my shirt and drop to the ground to get down. Then I had to climb the tree AGAIN, freaking shirtless, and get my shirt and put it back on. THANK GOD we were deep in the woods and no one was around to see!!!_

_10.13.17_

_OMG! Mrs. Ross announced our school play today… We’re doing The Lion King! I want to play Nala!_

_11.15.17_

_So… I didn’t get the part of Nala. But Mrs. Ross told me I’m a great dancer, so I’ll be in every dance number! But I don’t have a speaking or singing role. I wish she’d give me a chance._

_06.23.17_

_The play was so much fun! Jonah even came to see it. He told me that I did a great job._

Wren closed the journal. “We should probably start getting ready.”

Connor nodded. He tilted his head. “Are you alright?”

Wren nodded. “Yeah. It’s just… weird. I was kind of annoying back then.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “You were young.”

Wren grinned. “You can say it. I was annoying.”

“I’m not allowed to make fun of you, remember?” Connor lifted his eyebrows at her.

Wren chuckled and pushed him playfully. “Smug little shit.”

A smirk twisted Connor’s lips as he pushed himself off the bed. He trekked to the door and paused before leaving, his head cocking to one side. “I might be able to help you sort out your memories, should you remember more.”

Wren furrowed her brow. “How?”

“Interfacing,” said Connor.

“Maybe we can try it,” said Wren, folding her arms. “But later. I have to get ready.”

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” Connor left the room. Wren swallowed and glanced down at the journal. Did she _want_ Connor to see her memories? Would he still consider her family after witnessing some of the things she had done?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“So,” said James, leaning forward after the waitress went to place their order, “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

“I’m sure you do, too,” Wren said, folding her hands in her lap.

James shrugged. “Yeah, but you don’t remember your past. I can’t help you with everything, obviously, but I was there with you through a lot of it.”

Wren inhaled deeply. The problem was that she had so many questions that she did not know what she wanted to ask. She looked at Hank a little helplessly. He raised his eyebrows before looking at James.

“What happened the night of the accident?” Hank asked.

James snorted and looked at Wren. “And your first question is something I can’t really answer. I don’t know what happened. I was at home, and then I… I got the call that they’d found your car. We searched for you for days, weeks… I checked in with the police every week for an update. But… nothing. You had just… disappeared.”

Wren lowered her gaze, her stomach churning.

“Well, do you know who might know more?” Hank demanded.

James frowned, but offered no response. Connor shifted beside Wren. He folded his hands on the table. Wren stared at the red-and-white checkered tablecloth, avoiding her brother’s gaze.

“We know she was associated with a Mr. Jonah Cage. Would he have more information?” Connor queried.

“Fuck that guy,” spat James. Wren looked up at her brother, her eyes widening. “He’s a worthless piece of shit. I’m glad Wren doesn’t remember him.”

“We speculated that Wren might have been a victim of domestic abuse,” said Hank slowly. Wren felt his eyes on her. “Is that true?”

James worked his jaw. “Yeah. I didn’t notice… right away. Small things at first. She started drinking. She stopped hanging out with her friends, stopped coming to our family dinners, stopped visiting Izzy… Jonah used to say really mean things to her, too. He never had anything nice to say about her, and Wren… You just made excuses for him.” James held Wren’s gaze, tears sparkling in his eyes. “When you quit your business, I cornered you. Demanded that you talk to me. When I saw you, I barely recognized you. You were so skinny. You looked like you hadn’t slept… You were wearing long sleeves and sunglasses. A shit ton of makeup. More than you’ve ever worn. I asked you to roll up your sleeves and take off your glasses. You refused, so I slid your sleeve up. There were _bruises_ all up your arm…” James trailed off and shook his head. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He bowed his head for a moment before lifting his eyes to meet Wren’s. “I wanted to help you, but… You told me to fuck off. You ran off with Jonah, and I didn’t hear from you until now.”

Wren’s mouth fell open. “I told you… I… _Why_? Why would I do that? Why would I want to stay with him?”

James rubbed the back of his neck. “I think you really loved him. And… It was no secret that Jonah Cage was a Red Ice dealer. You were arrested for possession of Red Ice once, too. I bailed you out. I think you were an addict and Jonah… He kept you trapped in that shitty relationship because he fed your addiction. But I think… I think some part of you loved him, too.”

Wren stared at the tablecloth again. The colors blurred together as tears stung her eyes. “I can’t believe I…” She looked up at her brother. “I’m so sorry, James.”

James let out a damp laugh. “Wren, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You were in a dark place. I should’ve done more to get you out of that situation. Maybe… Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten in that wreck.”

Wren shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m to blame.”

“It sounds like Jonah’s got some of the blame, too,” said Hank. Wren looked at him. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Wren wiped her eyes. “Yeah, but… I’m responsible for my actions.”

“Look, Jonah will know more of what happened that night,” said James. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he were dishonest.”

“We’ll be careful,” said Hank.

Wren nodded. She frowned. “Did you say… I had a business?”

“Oh yeah,” said James, brightening. “You were starting a dance academy. Christine runs it now. Well, I guess you don’t know who Christine is…”

“I do,” said Wren, her eyes stretching. “I… I found my journal at Mom and Dad’s house. I was hoping it would help me remember something.”

“Has it?” James asked eagerly, leaning forward.

“Inconsequential things,” said Wren. “Nothing really coherent.”

James rubbed his mouth. “Interesting.”

Wren picked at her fingernails. “What was I like? Before… you know.”

James blew out a breath that puffed out his cheeks. “You were… weird. Weird sense of humor. You never took yourself too seriously. You could dance like a ballerina or a stripper, whichever you decided. You were always up for an adventure, but you were awkward as hell. Blunt as hell, too. You got into fights at school because you had a ‘fight me’ attitude. You lost every fight, by the way. You were just kind of… fearless. You were artistic. You could choreograph a dance to just about any song. You liked poetry and art and music… I’ve never met anyone who spent as much time in the woods as you, though. You climbed trees to think.” James let out a watery laugh. He mimed pinching in the air. “You know how arts and crafts stores sell fake flowers? You used to collect the flowers that fell off and littered the aisle. You’d stuff your pockets full of fake flowers and hide them in a drawer. I remember the first time you did it. You were about… I don’t know, eight? You came to me and told me that you’d done something very bad. You were scared the police were gonna come get you. Then you showed me that you’d taken those stupid, fake flowers. I promised not to tell anyone. You never stopped taking the ones that fell off. You always picked them up off the aisle. You had a drawer full of them… You ended up putting them into a scrapbook. I think I still have it.”

Wren managed a small smile. Hank shook his head, though the corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. “She’s still awkward as hell.”

James laughed. “I can tell. She’s so awkward in person, but when she starts dancing, she’s a whole different person.”

“I know,” said Hank, grinning. “I walked in on her dancing in the kitchen a while ago.”

Wren lifted her shoulders and cringed. “I was feeling the music, geez.”

The waitress brought their pizza on a large pan and set it in the middle of the table. She refilled their drinks, encouraged them to enjoy and left. James divvied out slices of the house special onto plates for Wren and Hank before taking some himself.

“So,” James said, sprinkling parmesan cheese onto his pizza, “What’ve you been up to in Detroit?”

“I’m an officer,” said Wren, waiting for her slice to cool.

“Yeah, I’m still having a hard time believing that,” said James, grinning.

“Think I can’t handle it?” Wren challenged.

“I don’t know…”

“She can,” piped up Connor. Wren glanced at him. Connor held James’s stare. “So far, her cases have ended successfully. Captain Fowler was especially pleased with her undercover work.”

Wren pressed her lips together, hiding a grimace. James’s eyebrows shot up. “Undercover work?”

Wren shook her head. “I barely did anything.”

“You held your own in a fight with a guy twice your size,” said Hank.

“Guess you win fights now,” chuckled James.

“It took a lot of work,” said Wren, lifting a brow. She shrugged. “And I had a good team. Not really looking forward to my new partner.”

“Yeah, good luck with Gavin,” snorted Hank.

Wren took a bite of pizza to keep from replying. It burned the roof of her mouth, but she chose to suffer through it rather than spit it out. James furrowed his brow in askance as he chewed.

“Wren was moved to the homicide unit,” Connor explained. “Her new partner is known to be… difficult.” He glanced down at Wren. “Though he is usually only difficult when I’m around.”

“He’s still an asshole.”

“Does he have a problem with androids or something?” James asked.

“Yes,” said Connor. He frowned. “Though I’m not sure why.”

“Probably feels threatened by you,” said James.

“Why doesn’t Dad like androids?” Wren asked.

James scowled. “Oh, you know. Typical stuff. ‘They’ve taken our jobs! They’ve taken our women! They’ve taken our men! They want rights! They’re just machines!’ No offense, Connor. I don’t think any of that, of course.”

“None taken,” said Connor.

Wren pursed her lips for a moment. “And Mom? What are her feelings?”

“Indifferent,” said James. “We never had an android, so she doesn’t have much experience with them.”

“And you?” Wren questioned. She stiffened, ready to defend Connor.

“Supportive,” James assured her. “I mean, I’m not an activist or anything, but I’m not a dick to androids and if I see someone acting that way, I try to step in. I kept up with the liberation movement. I saw Connor on the news that day, leading the army of deviants. Pretty badass.”

Wren glanced at Connor, beaming. She puffed up her chest. Connor looked away from them, though his lips quirked upward. “All I did was march.”

“You did a little more than that,” butted in Hank, reaching for his second slice of pizza. “He had to fight himself at the CyberLife Tower. Not really himself, but another RK800 model.”

Wren widened her eyes and looked at Connor. “You never told me that!”

Connor’s brow pinched. “I didn’t think it was that important.” He looked at Hank. “You had to discern which of us was the real Connor.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t too hard,” said Hank, waving Connor off. “I just needed one of you two to show empathy.”

Wren reached under the table and squeezed Connor’s hand. He glanced at her but said nothing.

“Were you in Detroit when this went down, Wren?” asked James.

“No, I hadn’t moved there yet,” said Wren. She smirked. “I do know the other android leaders, though.”

James widened his eyes. “Shut up! No, you don’t!”

“Yes, she does,” said Connor, sounding amused. “Markus, North and Josh are close friends of ours.”

“Josh lends me books, North and I go shopping and Markus taught us to paint,” Wren oversimplified.

James grinned. “That’s awesome. The whole liberation was, to be honest. The media kept calling deviants terrorists, but they hadn’t killed anyone. They were so peaceful. Media couldn’t cover that up.”

“No,” agreed Hank. He looked at Connor with twinkling eyes and a half-smile. “I’ve never been prouder.”

Wren’s heart nearly burst at the look on Connor’s face.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning, Wren trudged into the kitchen for coffee. Her parents were already awake, sitting at the kitchen table. Her father scrolled on a tablet, reading the news. Her mother jumped up from her seat and washed out her empty coffee cup.

“Would you like to get lunch with me later? Just us girls?” Shannon said as Wren poured coffee into a mug.

Wren nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Shannon beamed. “Great. We can leave about 11:30?”

“Sure,” Wren replied, smiling slightly. Shannon squeezed Wren’s shoulder before shuffling out of the kitchen. Wren resumed fixing her coffee with creamer. She stirred it, her spoon clinking against the mug noisily. It seemed much louder with her father’s tense presence.

“You’ve been sleepin’ in your room alone, right?” Charles muttered.

Wren froze, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. She lowered her arm. “Yeah, why?”

“I don’t like the way that thing looks at you,” said Charles.

Wren frowned. It took her a moment to realize that by _thing_ her father meant _Connor_. Heat boiled in Wren’s chest. She curled her fingers so tightly around her mug that it shook, nearly sloshing the contents over her. “He’s a _person_ , and his name is Connor.”

“Don’t feed me that liberal bullshit,” snapped Charles. “It’s a machine.”

Wren turned on her heel. “If you’re not going to respect Connor, then I’m leaving.”

Charles looked up at her, his dark eyes cold. “Then leave.”

Wren’s lungs constricted, but she held her head high. She strode past her father to head upstairs.

“I don’t like the way you look at it, either,” Charles called after her.

Wren stopped at the foot of the stairs. She looked over her shoulder at her father. “What, like he’s a person?”

Charles lifted an eyebrow. “Like it’s your entire world.”

The breath caught in Wren’s throat. She looked away, pursing her lips. She marched upstairs and entered her bedroom, where she found Connor waiting for her. Heat prickled up her neck.

“Did you hear any of that?” she demanded, her voice sharper than she preferred.

Connor looked up from a book of poetry, his brow furrowing. His LED flickered. “Hear what?”

Wren forced herself to relax. “Nothing, never mind.”

Connor furrowed his brow and blinked softly, but did not push for an explanation. Wren let out a sigh, thanking the heavens for a person like Connor. She sat on the edge of her bed and sipped her coffee.

“Would you like to try sorting out some of your memories?” Connor queried, closing the poetry book.

Wren stilled. “Um… Okay.” She set the coffee mug on the bedside table.

Connor rolled up his sleeve. Wren stared at his exposed skin for a moment longer than necessary. She pushed up her sweater sleeve. Connor held out his arm. Wren reached toward him. He gripped her forearm and Wren curled her hand around his forearm. Their synthetic skin melted away, leaving their naked plastic touching. Connor stared at their arms for a moment. Then, his eyes lifted to meet hers.

When he initiated the connection, an electric jolt ran through the circuits in Wren’s body. Her eyes fluttered shut. Connor was in her very bloodstream. She felt his presence within her processor. Memories flickered in her mind’s eye, like sped-up scenes in a movie. Connor seemed to be speeding through them to find the earliest one, based off of her appearance and demeanor to determine her age. The memories stopped, showing a staticky view of the ocean.

_“Belle! Isabelle!” called a voice._

_She turned, hearing her name. “Momma! Look what I found!”_

_Her mother jogged toward her, then stopped, glancing down at Wren’s cupped hands. Her mother bent over to peer at the object in Wren’s hands, thinking it was a seashell. She let out a squeal and snatched the object from Wren’s hands before chucking it into the ocean. “Don’t go around picking up strange objects!”_

_“What was it?” she asked, her heart fluttering._

_“It was just a hermit crab,” said her mother, running a hand through her hair. “They’re pretty harmless, but I don’t want you picking up anything that could hurt you. Okay?”_

_“Okay.”_

The memory shifted to a different one, one Wren had seen before: Her falling out of the tree and James cursing for the first time.

Connor continued to sort through Wren’s memories. He stopped after a moment. Wren felt his hesitation as a memory from Prometheus popped up. Wren squeezed his arm to let him know that it was okay to view this memory.

_“Your body is not your own. Whatever your target wants or needs, you will be. That is the key to manipulation, my dear. You must become no one in order to be everyone.” Her overseer sneered, his lips next to her ear. She shivered. Her overseer gripped her face, squeezing her jaw until it ached. “Tell me, CY001, do you still feel desire?” His hand dragged from her jaw to her throat. He gripped her neck. Wren remained still. She must be no one. She must be no one. She must be no one. Her overseer’s hand palmed down her collar to her breasts. “Does your skin tingle when I touch you?” He unbuttoned her shirt. “Or have they rendered you a machine?” His hands ran down her sides. “And you feel nothing?”_

Connor broke their connection, sending another electrical jolt through Wren’s circuits. She gasped as her synthetic skin rippled back over her arm. She parted her lips as she stared at Connor, whose LED cycled red.

“Connor, are you okay?” Wren demanded.

Connor seemed to tear his gaze away from his hand to Wren’s face. “Did that man… Did he…?”

A lump formed in Wren’s throat. “No. He just wanted to test my limits.”

Connor nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, I… I stopped sorting through your memories.”

“It’s okay,” Wren assured him, “this can’t be easy for you.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “It’s not me that I’m worried about.”

Wren’s chest softened. She reached forward and grabbed Connor’s hand. “I’m okay.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren sat in a little sandwich shop across from her mother, her hands in her lap. She looked around at the sage walls and brown tables. The restaurant exuded an earthy feel, which Wren appreciated.

“So,” chirped Shannon, squirming in her seat, “how is life in Detroit?”

“It’s great,” said Wren, “I have some friends and a great job. I… I get really busy with my job, so I haven’t really taken the time to explore Detroit like I should, though.”

“Any… boys –or girls –in your life?” Shannon asked, lifting her eyebrows.

Wren opened and closed her mouth. Connor immediately jumped to her mind, but he was the only “boy” she was really close with. She was not sure if he counted. “Eh, not really.”

“You and Connor seem close,” said Shannon, propping her elbows up on the table.

Wren nearly choked on her water. She coughed for a second before shrugging. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, we’re friends. He’s been a really good friend to me. He’s helped me through a lot.”

“You care about him,” stated Shannon.

“I do.”

“Is it… romantic?” Shannon queried.

Wren widened her eyes. “What? N-no.”

“Wrenley, honey, I know a lot has changed, but I know you. I know when you like a boy.”

“Mom… No, it’s not like that,” Wren insisted.

“Wrenley, you can lie to yourself all you want, but a mother knows. All I’m saying is, be careful. He is an android, after all.” Shannon shrugged and sipped from her soda.

Wren’s face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s just… different.”

“How so?”

“He’s not human.”

“Yeah, but he’s a person,” snapped Wren.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“Then what were you saying, exactly?”

Shannon huffed. “Wrenley, you’re a human and he’s an android. They’re still fighting for certain rights. I don’t even know if it’s legal for a human and android to become romantically involved. I mean, I don’t really know the logistics of these things… At the very least it’s taboo. And he may not be capable of providing you the same things a human can.”

Wren’s cheeks warmed. “Mom, please. Stop. I already told you that we’re not like that, so it doesn’t matter.”

Shannon held up her hands. “That’s all I’m saying.”

Wren worked her jaw as the waiter brought their food. Wren ate in relative silence, barely tasting her food. She knew her mother meant well. She knew that her father wanted the best for her, too. But their attacks on Connor unnerved her. She wanted to defend him, and did to the best of her ability.

Another disturbing thought picked at Wren’s brain. If both of her parents said she looked at Connor a certain way, did she? She certainly cared about Connor a great deal, and to some degree found him attractive, but was he her entire world, as her father suggested?

Her heart sank when she realized that there was truth to her father’s words.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your support! It sustains me while I suffer in grad school lmao.   
> Also, "Welcome Home" by Radical Face and "Memories" by Emmit Fenn are good songs to listen to for this chapter.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE, ATTEMPTED RAPE, and language (there’s been language throughout, but it gets derogatory/misogynistic for a moment here)

Connor peered out the window as Hank steered down a gravel road. They pulled up to a white colonial-style house. However, this one was not upkept like the others Connor had seen. The front porch was missing several banisters. The house was extremely dirty. A window was broken on the second floor. Hank stopped the car, staring up at the house.

“Jeeesus,” he muttered. “You lived in this shithole?”

When Wren failed to respond, Connor twisted in his seat to look at her. She stared out the window at the house, her eyes wide.

**«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 34%]**

“Kid,” said Hank, turning to look at Wren, one hand still on the wheel, “we don’t have to talk to this guy.”

Wren still did not look at them. “Yes,” she replied, “I do.” She opened the car door and stepped out.

Hank grabbed Connor’s shoulder before he could follow her. “This won’t be easy for her.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “Do you think Jonah will try to hurt her?”

“I hope he’s not that stupid, but we never know,” said Hank. “Let’s just be prepared for anything.”

Connor nodded and got out of the car. He trekked toward the house, his eyes on the house as its shadow fell over him. The summer air instantly chilled as he ascended the steps and joined Wren on the porch. The paint rotted off, peeling like from the floorboards and walls like lichen on a tree. Hank’s heavy steps creaked the floorboards. Wren rang the doorbell.

**«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 35%]**

The door opened.

**«scan» [Processing data… COMPLETE]**

**[Cage, Jonah: Bartender]**

**[Born: 06/06/2004]**

**[Criminal Record: Posession and dealing of Red Ice, aggravated assault, suspected domestic violence]**

Connor clenched his teeth. Jonah Cage was once an attractive man, but years of alcoholism and drug abuse gave him a rough, dirty appearance. He was skinny but muscular. Tattoos decorated his arms. He slicked his hair back. A lock of it fell onto his forehead. His eyes were round and blue. A beard covered much of his face. Connor narrowed his eyes slightly. The beard poorly hid a scar on Jonah’s right cheek. He narrowed his eyes at Connor.

“What do you want?”

“J-Jonah Cage?” Wren said, folding her arms across her chest.

Jonah’s light gaze turned from Connor to Wren. His eyes stretched as recognition flitted across his features. “Wrenley.” He covered his mouth with a hand. Tears filled his eyes. “Holy shit. You’re alive. How… How the fuck are you here? Where have you been?” He stepped forward and hugged Wren, who stiffened.

Connor tensed. “She doesn’t remember you.”

Jonah withdrew from Wren as if she shocked him. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Connor. “What do you mean?”

“The accident,” Wren murmured, “it… It damaged my brain.” She gave Jonah an abbreviated version of the story she had told her parents and brother.

Jonah raised his eyebrows. “That’s… fucked up.” He leaned against the doorframe but did not invite Wren, Connor and Hank inside. “I… I really missed you, babe. All these years… I thought you were dead.”

**«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 41%]**

“I-I’m sorry,” Wren muttered.

Jonah’s lips twitched. “You look good.” His eyes traveled over Wren’s form. Connor pressed his lips into a hard line. “Really good.”

**«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 45%]**

Connor had been scanning Wren’s stress levels the entire trip, but they had not reached this level the entire time. He shifted so that he stood slightly in front of Wren. “We came to speak with you about the night of the accident.”

Jonah’s eyebrows lifted at Connor’s harsh tone. Wren’s ex rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure.” He blew out a breath. “Look, we… We got in a fight that night, okay? She got mad, got in the car and left. I… I thought she just needed to cool down, but…” Jonah paused, his eyes red and watery. He seemed to choke on his own words, but Connor did not buy it. Jonah inhaled deeply. “When I got the news, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t leave our room for a week, Wren.”

The way Jonah said _our_ set Connor’s teeth on edge. He curled his hands into fists at his sides. Hank shifted to his left. Connor glanced at Wren, forcing his hands to relax.

**«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 47%]**

“Why did we fight?” Wren whispered.

Jonah sniffed and shrugged. “I don’t remember. Something stupid.”

Hank moved in Connor’s peripheral. “You get in a fight with your girlfriend and that same night she goes missing and you don’t remember what you fought about? That was your last conversation with her. If I were you, I’d’ve been replaying that moment over and over in my head.”

Connor narrowed his eyes as he regarded Jonah. He scanned Jonah’s stress levels.

**[▲42%]**

Jonah squared his shoulders as he eyed Hank. “I tried to forget.”

Connor pursed his lips before stating coldly, “We have reason to believe you were abusive. Are you sure _that_ didn’t have anything to do with Wren’s accident?”

Jonah’s face rippled with a sneer. “Are you accusing me of somethin’?”

“We’re not accusing you of anything,” said Wren, stepping forward. Connor wanted to push her behind him again. She was exposed to Jonah, and he felt bare and useless. “I just want the truth.”

Jonah pressed his lips together and lifted his eyebrows. Somehow his expression derided Wren.

**[WARNING: Rise in System Temperature Detected]**

Jonah stepped toward Wren. Connor scanned her stress levels.

**«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 54%]**

“The truth? You want the fucking truth?” Jonah laughed, but it was harsh. It reminded Connor of Gavin’s mocking laugh. “The truth is that you were high off your _ass_ that night. You were always such a cunt when you were on Ice. We got in a fight that I was too drunk and high to remember. You stormed out of the house and drove off.” Jonah shrugged, nonplussed.

Connor looked at Wren, his lips parted.

**«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 63%]**

Wren shuddered. Connor moved toward her, but Hank gripped his arm. Connor frowned at the lieutenant. Hadn’t Hank said that this would be difficult for Wren? Hank dipped his head toward Wren. Connor looked at her and held himself back. She glared at Jonah, her bottom lip quivering. She was scared, but not weak. Connor clenched his fists as Wren stared up at Jonah, their bodies nearly touching.

“You’re not telling the whole truth. You hurt me. You left bruises on me. You’re lying about why we fought.”

Jonah licked his lips. “You think you were a goddamn saint, don’t ya? Fine. Wanna know why we fought? You were a stripper. Go ask the club downtown. It’s the only one. You told me that you were just dancing, but I knew. I knew you were fucking guys behind my back. So yeah, we fought because you were a fucking whore!” He shoved Wren back.

“Hey!” Hank shouted, releasing Connor to steady Wren. In one, fluid motion, Connor stepped toward Jonah and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.

Connor’s lip curled. “Don’t ever touch her again, scumbag.”

Jonah struggled against Connor’s grip. “Get your cheap plastic hands off me!”

“Actually, I’m worth a small fortune. Don’t you ever touch her again, or I will personally neutralize you. Do you hear me?” Connor snarled.

“What kind of asshole says ‘neutralize?’” Jonah spat. Connor did not release Wren’s ex. He wouldn’t until Jonah agreed to never touch Wren again. Jonah snorted. “Don’t like hearing the truth about your little girlfriend? Yeah, she used to ride dick all the time. Is she still a master cocksucker? Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you?”

Connor’s eyes widened. His grip on Jonah’s collar loosened. Hank grabbed Connor by the shoulders. “That’s enough! Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Yeah, you better get the fuck outta here! Not everyone is ready to sing kumbaya with you plastic fucks!” Jonah shouted after them.

Connor trembled as he got into the car, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. For several minutes, no one spoke.

“You guys okay?” Hank murmured.

“I’m sorry,” Connor breathed, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You got mad. I was pretty close to knocking his teeth out.” Hank shrugged.

“He’s lying,” Wren muttered from the backseat. Connor turned to look at her, a lump forming in his throat.

“About what?” Hank asked, looking at Wren through the rearview mirror.

She stared straight ahead, a watery sheen glossing over her eyes. “When he pushed me, it triggered a memory. Of that night.”

Connor’s biocomponents seemed to twist.

Wren lifted her head, meeting Connor’s gaze. “I want to go to the strip club.”

“What, why?” demanded Hank.

“I need to know.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor avoided looking at the strippers and their scantily clad bodies. He tried not to imagine Wren working there. His mind drifted to the Eden Club. He remembered trying to be respectful of the dancers, even before his deviancy. He had attempted to remain indifferent and professional around the Tracies, He hadn’t deviated yet, but his empathy had seeped through his programming, even then. He remembered the sickening feeling of being torn between his programming and empathy. He recalled looking at a dancer through the glass tank, his eyes traveling up her glittering body. The problem with free will was that it allowed for his imagination to flourish. Instead of seeing the usual model for a Traci, he saw Wren’s face. He imagined Wren in a glass case, dressed in the Eden Club attire, her hands pressed against the glass. Nausea –or the closest thing an android could experience as nausea –roiled in his biocomponents. It was as though his thirium were boiling. Heat prickled up his neck and flushed across his cheeks.

He forced himself to focus on the exchange between Wren and one of the strippers, a woman named Ginger.

“Holy shit, I barely recognized you, Wren. You look good.”

“Thank you,” said Wren. “I’m… I’m sorry that I don’t really remember you. The accident…”

“I get it,” said Ginger, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “So, what brings you and the cops here?”

Connor folded his hands behind his back and tilted his head, regarding Ginger politely. She looked him over, a smirk toying at her lips. Her gaze discomforted him. Ginger’s eyes flicked to Wren. “I worked here, right? We’re trying to piece my past together. We’re hoping it might help me remember.”

“Yeah, you worked here,” said Ginger. “You were one of the best girls here. Jonah made you get a job here, the selfish prick. But he was always so jealous. But you guys had bills to pay, I guess.”  

Connor felt Wren tense beside him. “Did I ever… sleep with the clients?”

Ginger scowled. “What? No. You got offers, sure. But you always said you belonged to Jonah. None of us sleep with the clients. We’re dancers, not prostitutes.”

Wren relaxed. “Thank you, Ginger.”

“No problem. I hope everything works out.”

“You, too.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Back at Wren’s parents’ house, Wren pulled Connor into her room and shut the door. Connor pinched his brow as Wren turned to face him.

“Can I show you the memory?” she asked.

Connor parted his lips for a moment. He closed his mouth and nodded. Wren stepped forward and pressed her palms to Connor’s, their synthetic skin rippling away. A soft blue glow emitted where their hands touched. Connor closed his eyes as Wren sucked him into the memory.

_Her head pounded as she pulled into the driveway. She had been clean for a few days now, and her body craved release. But she resisted it as she got out of the car. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she entered the house. She stuffed her keys into her back pocket rather than dropping them on the table in the foyer. Her eyes felt as if someone were pressing their thumbs against them. She rubbed her temples to alleviate the headache. She trekked down the hall and glanced into the kitchen to her left. Trash littered the countertops. Dirty dishes piled high in the sink. Flies buzzed around the waste. She shivered and peered to the left, where Jonah sat on the couch, watching TV. She took a deep breath and entered the living room and rounded the couch. She prayed this went well._

_Jonah did not even look at her. “Babe, get me a beer.”_

_Wren’s insides quivered. “No.”_

_Jonah looked at her icily. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”_

_Wren sucked in a shuddering breath. “Jonah, I think we should get clean. I-I hate our life. Let’s sell the rest of the drugs. We could use the money to get out of this town. I could teach dance somewhere –”_

_Jonah’s harsh laugh cut her off. “Did you just say we could sell the drugs? You hate our life? You hate the life I’ve built you? I bought you a goddamn car!”_

_“I-I know, but Jonah, look at us. I can’t do this anymore.”_

_Jonah stood. Wren backtracked, but stopped before she reached the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you sober?”_

_“Jonah, I’m serious, please. I don’t want to lose you. I want to work on us, but w-we can’t have a healthy relationship if –”_

_“You’re not fucking sober.” He grabbed her by the hair, pain shooting through her scalp. She let out a whimper as he pulled her face close to his. The reek of alcohol burned her nostrils._

_“Jonah, please!” Wren cried as he stooped to pick something up, his hand still gripping her hair. He placed the object to Wren’s mouth. It was a Red Ice pipe._

_“I bought this for you. Smoke it! Smoke it, now!” He tried to force the pipe into her mouth._

_“No!”_

_“Did you just tell me no? That’s the second time tonight!” He threw the pipe to the floor. It shattered at Wren’s feet. She jumped and cried out._

_Jonah grabbed her face, forcing her to look up at him. She let out a dry sob. “You’re so fucking hot…”_

_He ran his hands down her body. She pushed him back weakly, relief rushing over her scalp when he released his hold. “Please, don’t…” She shook as she tried to remember self-defense from the lessons she and the other dancers had been required to take, but she was not sure she could hurt Jonah._

_His hands rubbed down her butt and in between her thighs._

_She jerked away. “Please, stop.”_

_“No,” Jonah growled, “you’re mine.” He grabbed her by the arms and forced her onto the couch, where he climbed on top of her. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as Jonah unbuckled his pants. Her heart slammed in its cavity. Bile surged into her throat. No. This wasn’t going to end like this. She curled her hand into a fist and punched Jonah in the balls. He hunched over and wheezed. Wren pushed him off her and rolled off the couch. She hurried toward the foyer, Jonah’s enraged shouts behind her. Something glass hit her in the back. She stumbled and fell, lying in the broken shards of a vodka bottle. The space between her shoulder blades ached._

_Jonah loomed over her, his belt unbuckled. He used his foot to roll her over. He stepped on her hip, holding her in place. A grin spread across his face, though it looked feral. He unzipped his pants. “I like it when you’re feisty.” He straddled her, pulling his pants down. He worked on unbuckling Wren’s pants. She grabbed a shard of glass and struck with it. She stabbed Jonah in his right cheek. His hands jumped to cup his bleed wound._

_“Ah, fuck!”_

_Wren scrambled out from underneath him and sprinted toward the nearest exit: the stairs. She knew it was stupid to run upstairs, but she had very few options. She sprinted up the stairs, Jonah close on her heels. He grabbed one of her ankles, and she crashed onto the stairs._

_“You stupid whore!” Jonah snarled. He punched her face. Stars danced in her vision, but she punched back. Blood flooded her mouth as Jonah hit her again. She grabbed his face and scratched her nails down his cheek. She dug her fingers in his new wound on his cheek. Jonah screamed and withdrew from her. Wren used both feet to kick him in the chest. He tumbled down the stairs, and Wren got up and ran down the hall, her hands sticky with blood. She hurried into one of the rooms and locked herself in._

_Breathing heavily, she hurried to the window and slid it open. She clambered through it, onto the awning over the porch. Rain poured down around her, and her grip slipped slightly, but she caught herself. Banging from behind her told her that Jonah was trying to break down the door. Jesus, did he ever give up? Would she have to kill him?_

_The door burst off its hinges and Jonah stormed into the room, looking mad with blood streaming down his face. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT!”_

_Wren widened her eyes and released her grip on the window sill. She slid down the roof and fell to the ground. Her ankle twisted when she landed, pain shooting up through her leg. She cried out and crumpled to the ground, cradling her throbbing ankle. She heard Jonah’s roars from the house and forced herself to get up, her heart pounding in her skull. She limped to her car, her hands shaking as she fought to slam her keys into the ignition._

_She screeched out of the driveway and sped off, not paying attention to where she was going. Her shoulders quaked as she sobbed. Tears blurred her vision. Her hands stuck to the steering wheel, rotten with Jonah’s rusty blood. Her whole body ached from the fight. Her heart stung and it hurt to breathe._

_Headlights gleamed to her left. Wren frowned. There were no intersecting roads here, there shouldn’t be headlights to her left –_

_CRASH._

_The other car slammed into hers in a rush. Her car spun and hit the guardrail. She did not feel any pain; she suspected that the adrenaline spiking her blood was to blame. Perhaps the shock, too. Her stomach floated up to her throat as she plummeted off the cliff._

_She remembered that everything was quiet. Dying was silent._

_She was aware of her screaming, she felt the noise ripping through her throat, but she could not hear it._

_She did not feel the impact of the ground. She only felt the quiet darkness._

Connor gaped when Wren broke their connection, releasing him from the memory. He did not need to breathe, but he felt as though he were drowning. He wanted to gasp for breath, to provide some relief to the _heaviness_ crushing his biocomponents, particularly on his metal heart. His eyes burned from stretching so wide. He felt sick as he looked at Wren, who stared at him apprehensively.

He looked at her, and all of the anger, shock, disgust, horror, fear, everything just _crumpled_. He pulled Wren toward him and enveloped her into a tight hug. Wren did not respond at first, but then her arms wrapped around him. She clung to him and he held onto her, their fingers digging into each other’s backs.

Connor had never hated anyone. But he _hated_ Jonah Cage. The feeling shredded through him, overheating his systems. He pushed a heaving breath through his nostrils. He felt Wren shaking beneath him. He heard her let out a soft sob and he melted. Wren did not need his hatred, not now.

He hugged her tighter and squeezed his eyes shut. He never wanted Wren to feel that pain or terror again. All he wanted was for her to feel safe and happy… He wanted to see her radiant smile. He wanted her to toss her head back and laugh, or cover her mouth as she giggled. He wanted to see her eyes glitter as she danced in the kitchen. He wanted her to glow from the inside out with happiness.

He frowned at himself, not understanding where this need –this longing –to see Wren happy came from. Sure, she was family. He wanted similar things for Hank, who was also family. But Wren… Wren was not family the same way that Hank was family. Connor could not quite place it, but he knew his feelings for Wren differed from his feelings for Hank.

**[CPU Path Unlocked: ???]**

His metal heart lurched. His feelings for Wren had surpassed friendship, but into what, he did not know. Connor’s frown deepened, but he decided to investigate his software later. In that moment, Wren was all that mattered.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 Connor stood on the front porch of the Blanchard house. Charles glowered at him from the doorway, but Connor heeded the man no mind. His gaze remained transfixed on Wren, Shannon and James. Wren’s mother and brother held a cardboard box.

“We put some things in here to help you remember who you are,” said Shannon, her eyes misty. “Scrapbooks, home videos, your favorite books and movies… Maybe… Maybe they’ll trigger something.”

“I downloaded your favorite music onto an iPod for you, too. Yours stopped working years ago. You won’t find any of today’s hits on there, but…” James shrugged.

“Even if you don’t remember, maybe it’ll help you understand who you were, at least,” said Shannon.

They passed the box over to Wren, who cradled it into her arms. Connor could not see her face, but he wished he could. Her head bowed, looking into the box. Then, she lifted her head to look at Shannon and James. “Thank you.”

Connor’s chest tightened when Wren’s voice broke. He looked away to give Wren a private moment with her family. He joined Hank by the car. They had already said their goodbyes and expressed their gratitude, so there was no reason for Connor to hover around Wren.

“You’ll come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas, won’t you?” Shannon called after Wren, who trekked toward the car. She stopped and turned.

“If you want me to,” she said.

“Well, of course we do!” Shannon waved.

“Then… Yeah, I’ll try to be there.” Wren waved goodbye and placed the box into Hank’s trunk. She grabbed the headphones and iPod, though. Connor drove them out of Ellsworth. He instantly felt lighter as they exited the town. He had not expected Wren’s past to weigh down on him, too. He could only imagine how she felt.

His mind drifted as he drove. Wren lounged in the backseat, listening to the music James had given her. Hank’s head tilted back, his mouth hanging open as he dozed. Connor’s lips twitched with a small smile. _His family._ Even nine hundred miles away from Detroit, Connor felt at home.

After a while, Hank insisted on driving, stating that he was bored. Connor sat in the backseat with Wren while Hank cranked up his metal music. Wren nudged Connor with her shoulder. He looked at her. She held up one of the earbuds to her headphones. Connor smiled softly and took it and placed it in his right ear while Wren wore the left. He tuned out Hank’s music to focus on Wren’s.

Wren bobbed her head to the beat, and Connor’s mouth stretched with a smile. He glanced out the window, watching trees flit past in a blur of green while he listened to the lyrics.

_I took a little journey to the unknown_

_And I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones_

_I fucked with the forces that our eyes can’t see_

_Now the darkness got a hold on me_

_Holy darkness got a hold on me_

A chill trickled through Connor’s blue blood. Was this how Wren felt?

Was this how _he_ felt?

The next song came on, and Connor folded his hands in his lap as his chest tightened.

_Something about you_

_It’s like an addiction_

_Hit me with your best shot, honey_

_I’ve got no reason to doubt you_

_‘Cause certain things hurt_

_And you’re my only virtue_

_And I’m virtually yours_

_And you keep coming back, coming back again_

_Keep running round, running round, running round my head_

**[WARNING: Rise in System Temperature Detected]**

**[WARNING: Low Sanitary Oral Fluid]**

Connor’s systems worked to cool him and flood his mouth with artificial saliva. He swallowed, choking on the dryness. He coughed slightly to clear his throat. He glanced down at Wren, who bowed her head, her eyes closed. Her head bounced slowly from side to side as she listened to the music.

Connor tried to ignore the lyrics of the next song, but he found he couldn’t.

_Sister, I remember_

_Mother kept happy when she could_

_Weather in December_

_Never felt as warm as it should_

_You were like a feather_

_Never land where we thought you would_

_Or anywhere close to it_

_Who would have thought you never would_

_So tell me what happens_

_When the waves break_

_And you’re surrounded_

_He tries to kill you_

_And you allow it_

A soft sob sputtered beside Connor. He glanced down at Wren, who covered her mouth with her hand as she tried to muffle her cries. His metal heart crumpled. He reached for her free hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. Wren looked at him, the tears in her eyes pronouncing the blue of her irises. Connor parted his lips, feeling choked. He had no idea how to comfort her. What could he say to take away her pain? What could he do to take away the feelings of loss? What could he do to alleviate the darkness?

Wren rested her head on Connor’s shoulder. She trembled with soft cries that eventually subsided. Connor rested his cheek against her head. Wren fell asleep, and Connor tried to ignore the lyrics of every love song that played on her iPod. But he couldn’t.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 Connor could not push the image of Wren’s grave from his mind. It struck him cold every time he thought of it. It distracted him at work, even after they had returned from their trip in Maine.

He and Hank decided to shelf the dead Traci case until a new lead surfaced, focusing on other cases. For the most part, they had been cut-and-dry. But every time Connor looked down at a dead body, human or android, he could not push the thought of Wren’s grave from his processor. It was both a blessing and curse that androids had perfect memories. Not even perfect memories. They could relive their memories, thanks to the way their processors recorded everything they saw.

Connor relived hiking the slope and stopping before the tombstone. He felt the same sharpness in his chest as he stared at Wren’s name etched on the stone. His eyes burned with the same intensity as the first time he looked at it, realizing that one day, he would stand at Hank’s grave. One day, he would look upon Wren’s grave, and it would not be a memorial with empty ground beneath. One day, there would be a coffin under the dirt. One day, Connor would not have a family.

Another staticky memory played in his processor: One of mutilated androids in the basement of a madman’s house, left to deteriorate and rust with no one to miss them. At least when the dreadful day that Connor’s human family left him came, he knew they’d be missed. He would miss them so much.

His breath hitched and his metal heart ached. The world spun around him and his eyes felt gummy.

**[WARNING: Elevated Thirium Pump Regulation]**

Connor swallowed and clenched his teeth. He pushed away from his desk, earning him a bewildered look from Hank. Connor trekked to the breakroom, pushing a forceful breath through his nostrils in an attempt to cool his internal systems which would slow his thirium pump’s escalated thumping.

Wren entered the breakroom, her arms folded. “Connor? Are you okay?”

Connor gripped the counter. “Wren, what is the purpose for funerals?”

“Uh,” said Wren, “It’s different for everybody. I guess… For the living, it’s a way to say goodbye. It’s a last show of respect. It’s like sending someone off to the afterlife, if you believe in that.”

Connor pursed his lips as his thirium pump regulator jumped. A quaking breath hissed out of his throat. He flinched when Wren placed a hand on his back.

“Connor, what’s wrong?” she murmured.

Connor’s eyes stung. “There are a dozen androids in a basement of an abandoned house. They shutdown a long time ago, but they’re still there. I-I want to get them out.”

He turned to look at Wren shakily. Her brow pinched. “Okay. Let’s call Jericho.”

Connor raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. He expected needing to convince Wren, but she accepted his request so easily. Wren moved away, dialing North’s number on her phone. Connor watched her, his lips parted. His chest softened. The corners of his mouth tugged upward.

**< p/>ZG9lcyBzaGUgY2FyZSBmb3IgbWUgbGlrZSBJIGNhcmUgZm9yIGhlcg==<p/> **

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After work, Connor and Wren met North, Markus and Josh at the Zlatko residence. The sunset cast an orange glow over the house.

North looked up at the house and grimaced. “I see why you want to get them out of there.”

“Yeah,” agreed Josh, falling in step with Wren, “this place is creepy.”

Connor led the way inside. He paused, tilting his head as he registered new footprints in the dust. Someone had been there since he and Hank found the little boy. “We should split up and make sure there aren’t any other androids upstairs.”

“Good idea,” said Markus. He led the way upstairs. Josh and North followed him while Connor trekked toward the basement staircase. Wren followed behind him. Connor appreciated her presence, as he did not want to enter the basement alone again.

They were silent as they walked into the first stall in the basement. Wren gasped when she saw the mutilated android. Connor ignored the warning in the corner of his eye, informing him that his systems overheated and his pump regulation accelerated. He knew that without the technical warning.

The android’s arms were twisted at unnatural angles. Connor gaped at the thirium pump regulator inserted through the android’s mouth, wires connecting to it down its throat to its abdomen, which was gouged open for them to see the intricate mechanisms inside.

Wren clutched the back of Connor’s jacket. A tingle ran up his arms and spine.

“They didn’t feel any pain,” Connor muttered hoarsely.

“They were deviants, weren’t they?” Wren breathed.

“Yes.”

“Then… They were awake and alive through this…”

Connor pressed his lips into a hard line. “I know.”

He backed out of the stall, Wren still gripping his jacket. They counted the android bodies in all of the stalls, finding exactly a dozen. Wren released her grip on Connor’s jacket to head further down the concrete hall.

“Were there any back here?” she asked, rounding the corner.

“No,” Connor called back, “just a memory-erasing machine.” He waited for her to come back, but she didn’t. A frown hardened the lines of his face. “Wren?”

No answer.

Connor wrinkled his brow. “Wren?”

When she still did not answer, Connor strode down the hall and around the corner. He relaxed when he saw Wren staring up at the apparatus. His frown deepened when he noticed Wren’s stiff posture. He gazed up at the machine, wondering what Wren found so mesmerizing about it.

He stepped toward her, reaching for her arm. “Wren?”

She backpedaled suddenly, slamming into him. Her chest heaved with her erratic breathing, and Connor gripped her elbows to keep her from collapsing to the ground. He recognized the signs of a panic attack immediately. He turned Wren to face him.

“Wren, talk to me,” he said firmly. “What’s wrong?”

Wren’s eyes darted around the room, glazed with tears. She didn’t seem to see Connor.

“Is everything okay?” said North from down the hall.

Connor chose not to answer, focusing on Wren. “Wren, you’re okay. Talk to me. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

North, Josh and Markus rounded the corner, their expressions wrinkled with disgust. Their eyes broadened when they saw Connor and Wren. North gathered her brows and stepped forward. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” Connor muttered. “Wren, look at me.”

Wren’s eyes found his at last, her breathing evening. “I-I’m okay.”

Connor frowned. “What happened?”

“I…” Wren glanced toward North, Markus and Josh before meeting Connor’s gaze. “I remembered something. I’m okay, really. I just… I need a minute.”

“Here,” said North, handing Wren the keys to the Jericho truck, “drive the truck closer. We’ll work on moving the bodies, okay?”

Wren nodded, swallowing. Connor released his grip on Wren’s arms as she took the keys and hurried out of the basement. He watched her go, his forehead tightening. He felt North’s eyes on him and looked at her. She looked away.

“Let’s move the bodies,” she stated, “this place gives me the creeps.”

It took them six trips to move the androids. Wren joined them on the second trip, helping carry and lay the bodies down gently in the back of the truck. After the final trip, Josh and Markus went upstairs to grab another android they had found earlier. Connor watched Wren as she trekked back toward the apparatus to examine it. Connor moved to follow her, but North caught him by the arm.

“Give her some space,” she advised. Connor’s brow creased. North softened. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Connor nodded and North released his arm.

“Wren,” called North, “we’re going outside. Come out when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Wren’s voice sounded softer than usual.

Connor’s gut tugged. But he heeded North’s advice and followed her out of the basement and outside. He wanted to stand by Wren’s side and bring a smile back to her lips. He and North stepped outside and immediately exchanged a glance.

A group of men sauntered toward Markus and Josh, who were lifting the final android’s body into the truck. The leader of the group stepped forward.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “This is private property.”

Connor and North strode forward. The front door to Zlatko’s opened and closed. Connor glanced back, relieved to see Wren. He turned back toward the leader of the group.

“The former resident no longer lives here. This house is going to be reclaimed by the bank soon,” Connor stated.

The man’s grey eyes zeroed in on Connor’s LED. He curled his lip and looked at Markus, North and Josh. His eyes widened and a grin spread across his face. Connor shifted, his abdomen constricting uncomfortably. The man smacked his buddies as he guffawed. “Looks like we hit the jackpot, boys! We’ve got the damn leaders of those worthless skin-jobs!”

Connor clenched his teeth. North emitted a growl beside him. Markus raised his hands, palms forward. “We’re just here to take care of our dead. We’re about to leave.”

The man stepped forward, dangerously close to Markus’s face. “Your kind aren’t welcome here. Those androids aren’t yours to take. They were Zlatko’s property.”

Connor stepped forward. “We actually have jurisdiction here. I’m a detective with the Detroit Police Department. You should leave before you cause trouble.”

The man turned his glare onto Connor, who regarded him calmly. He shoved Connor back. “We don’t recognize your authority here, filthy blue blood.”

“That’s a shame,” said Wren loudly, marching forward. “Because he’s my partner. Maybe you’ll recognize a human officer’s authority.” She flashed her badge at the man. “I suggest you and your little android-phobic buddies leave.”

“You’re _protecting_ them?” sneered the man.

“Yes. Now go.”

The man stepped so close to Wren that their bodies touched. Connor ground his teeth together, his lip curling slightly. He narrowed his eyes. “You know, you’d actually be pretty if you weren’t a socket fucker.” He spat on the ground at Wren’s feet before stalking away, his friends in tow.

Connor looked at his friends. Josh trembled. Markus bowed his head and closed his eyes. North’s eyes flashed. Her jaw tightened. Wren sighed as she faced Connor, Josh, Markus and North.

“I’m really sorry, guys.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Markus.

“They hate us, even though we’re free!” snarled North.

Wren shook her head. “They’re just a vocal minority, unfortunately. The majority of the public is supportive.”

Connor hung his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought us here.”

“We have a right to be here, to collect our dead and bury them. We’re doing the right thing,” retorted Markus. He sighed. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Wren placed a hand on Josh’s arm. His eyes were wide as his body shook. “Are you alright?”

Connor’s blue blood boiled. He pushed a hot breath through his nostrils and turned away from Wren and Josh.

 **< 3Rr0R** **d2h5IGFtIEkgamVhbG91cz8gV2hhdCBpcyBsb3ZlPyA=3rR0r > **

He tired to ignore the look that North gave him. It only sparked a twitching under his synthetic skin that set his teeth on edge.

Connor and Wren said farewell to the Jericho crew and hiked to Hank’s car. Connor said nothing as they clambered inside. He started the engine and drove away from Zlatko’s, allowing some of the tension to leave his body as Zlatko’s house shrunk in the rearview mirror.

“I want to talk to Elijah Kamski,” said Wren suddenly.

Connor whipped his head to look at her. “What? Why?”

Wren stared ahead. “I think he can answer some questions about my processor.”

Connor frowned, creasing his forehead as he narrowed his eyes. “I can answer your questions.”

“You don’t have all the answers, Connor,” said Wren gently.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Kamski’s dangerous.”

“Like I’ve never been in danger before,” scoffed Wren.

Connor scowled. “I’m serious, Wren. He plays twisted little games.”

“I’m dangerous, too,” said Wren darkly. Connor looked at her. She met his gaze. The soft yellow glow of a streetlamp glinted in her eyes before disappearing. “I know how to play games.”

Connor looked ahead, clenching his jaw. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I remembered something,” said Wren, “from my time with Prometheus. Seeing the apparatus triggered a memory.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “I thought you remembered the entirety of your stent with Prometheus?”

“I thought so, too,” said Wren. “But I remembered something from Prometheus that I definitely didn’t remember before.”

“What was it?”

“They used that machine on me,” Wren answered, her voice wavering. Connor glanced at her, his eyebrows lifting. Wren turned to meet his gaze. “They made me forget her.”

“Her?”

“Juno,” Wren breathed. This did not answer Connor’s question, but he did not press for more information. He waited for Wren to elaborate.

He tilted his head. “If they made you forget this person, do you think they could have made you forget your family and your past?”

“Maybe,” said Wren. “But I thought I forgot them before they turned me into a cyborg.”

“Maybe you didn’t,” replied Connor.

Wren rubbed her face with her hands. “That’s why I want to talk to Kamski. I want to know how my processor and my brain work. I want to know if it’s possible for them to make me forget. I want to know if everything I’ve believed is a lie.”

Connor drew in a sharp breath. “Alright. I’ll find a way to talk to him.”

Connor felt Wren’s eyes on him. “You will?”

He nodded. “If it will help you, yes.”

“How will you contact him? Do you think he’ll agree to meet with me?”

“I think he will if I’m with you,” Connor muttered. His thirium regulation quickened. “I’ll send a message to Chloe.”

“You’re not telling me something,” said Wren.

Connor looked at her. “That makes two of us.”

Wren clenched her jaw and looked out the window. “Juno was an android. Not just an android… She trained me to fight.”

Connor’s brow gathered. “Why would Prometheus make you forget her?”

Wren inhaled deeply before uttering, “Because I loved her.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Although Wren enjoyed spending time with Connor, she was glad when a case came across her and Gavin’s desks. She needed space from the android. Something shifted for her ever since her parents’. Well, ever since she showed Connor her memories. Connecting with his processor had been more intimate than any sex she’d had, at least for her. She had shown him her mind. He had seen the moments where she’d been most raw. And now she felt oddly naked in his presence.

She wanted to rebuild the walls around her. She wanted to say that she did not care about Connor. She wanted to say that he was not home to her. She wanted to ignore the way he lit up her world when it seemed dark. She wanted to ignore the peace he brought her. She wanted to stomp on the flowers that had grown from the scars in her heart. She was not ready to admit how much he meant to her.

She needed space from Connor because lately she wondered what it would be like to be _more_ with him. She caught herself staring at him too often. Her eyes touched his freckles as if she were tracing constellations on his skin. She often watched the way his lips moved when he spoke. She stopped herself from reaching out to brush her finger down the bridge of his nose. She caught herself smiling whenever she noticed him smiling with his eyes (or his lips). She tore her gaze away from the collar of his shirt.

“Hey,” snapped Gavin, “Earth to Wren. Stop daydreaming.”

Wren blinked and pushed Connor from her mind. Yeah, she definitely needed this space. She puffed out a breath and crossed her arms, eyeing the body on the bed. They stood in a hotel room. The victim was Arie Kennedy. She had been strangled to death.

Wren glanced around the room, examining the evidence marked by the forensic team. A used condom lay discarded on the floor. The woman was handcuffed to the bed. She wore lingerie, too.

“Looks like they played a little too rough,” snorted Gavin.

Wren frowned. “You think this was an accident?”

“She was obviously into some kinky shit,” said Gavin, gesturing to the black leather lingerie, gag and handcuffs. “And they had sex before she died, so…”

Wren wrinkled her nose at the condom near her foot. She stepped closer to the body. Pulling on latex gloves, she moved the victim’s arms. “She has ligature marks on her wrists.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Gavin, “she’s cuffed to the damn bed.”

Wren ignored his condescending tone. “She cut herself struggling. Her killer knew she was struggling, and kept choking her.”

“Okay,” said Gavin, pacing the room. “It’s not completely ridiculous. So, he probably doesn’t have a record, otherwise he would’ve thrown the condom away. Or gotten rid of it somehow.”

Wren began sifting through Arie Kennedy’s belongings. “Or think about what using a condom says psychologically.”

“He doesn’t wanna get her pregnant.”

“Right,” said Wren, “he’s trying to distance himself from her.”

Gavin’s brow puckered. “What, like he’s having an affair with her? Or was?”

“Mhm,” said Wren, picking up Arie Kennedy’s cell phone. “The best way to find that out is going through her bank and phone records.”

“I’ll make a call,” said Gavin, lifting his eyebrows. He stepped out of the room. Wren glanced down at Arie Kennedy, her stomach lurching at the purpling around the dead woman’s throat.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

While they waited for Arie Kennedy’s bank and phone records to reach their terminals, Gavin and Wren decided to question the woman’s coworkers. Arie Kennedy had worked at a bougie computer company as an IT consultant.

Wren and Gavin asked around for Arie Kennedy’s friends and desk. However, Arie Kennedy did not seem to have many friends. She closed herself in her office most of the time without interacting with her coworkers. Wren and Gavin entered Arie’s office. The desk was made of steel and glass. The chair was white leather with a curving back. The walls were white.

“Pretty minimalist,” said Gavin, looking around.

“Very,” Wren agreed, looking at the desk. “She doesn’t have pictures of loved ones. Not even a plant.”

“Arie didn’t believe in mixing her personal life with work,” said a feminine voice from the doorway. Wren glanced up. A dark-skinned woman poked her head in, biting her lip.

“Did you know Arie?” Wren asked, stepping around the desk. “Well, first off, what’s your name?”

“Ximena,” said the woman, stepping through the threshold. She looked professional and Wren felt as if she were too casual to even stand in Arie’s office.

“Ximena,” Wren repeated, “I like it.”

“Did you know Ms. Kennedy?” asked Gavin, stepping forward and folding his arms.

Ximena shrugged. “As well as anyone _could_ know her.”

“What do you mean?” Wren tilted her head.

“She kept to herself,” said Ximena. “Didn’t believe in mixing the personal with business, which included coworkers. We got lunch a few times, but mainly because I felt bad for her. She seemed lonely.”

“Was she?” Wren questioned.

“Yeah,” said Ximena, snorting. “The first time I took her to lunch, she had to hold herself back from dumping her whole life story on me.”

“Did she talk of any boyfriends or men she was seeing?” Wren asked.

Ximena’s brow puckered. “Not really… Though she did receive anonymous flowers and gifts a lot.”

Wren exchanged a glance with Gavin before turning to Ximena. “Thank you for your help.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Searching Arie Kennedy’s house proved just as empty as her office. It was ridiculously clean. Her clothes in her closet were spaced apart evenly. Wren analyzed them and was not surprised to find them exactly one inch apart.

“Okay, no one is this clean,” said Gavin, opening a drawer in Arie’s nightstand.

“Unless someone makes them this clean,” muttered Wren. She turned to Gavin, her forehead crinkling. “Do you think those records are available for us to look at yet?”

“They’ve been available,” said Gavin. “It only takes them about fifteen minutes to get to our terminals.”

Wren checked her phone for the time. It was nearly five in the evening. Her stomach growled. She did not want to drink coffee for dinner. “We should get back and have a look at those records.”

“Cool your engines, Captain,” said Gavin. “I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat and then we can get back on this.”    

They stopped for Chinese takeout and returned to the station to find it mostly empty. Hank sauntered over to Wren and Gavin’s desks, Connor in tow. Wren avoided Connor’s inquisitive gaze.

“You two stop for dinner and don’t pick anything up for me?” Hank pouted.

Wren pulled a box out of her bag. “Actually, I did.”

Hank blinked before grinning and taking the box. “Thanks, kid.” He furrowed his brow. “Are you staying here?”

“Yeah. I’ll take a cab home.”

“Don’t stay too late, alright?” Hank raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Wren nodded. “Okay, _Mom_.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but patted Wren’s shoulder before leaving with Connor.

“Jesus,” muttered Gavin, “it’s like you’re a teenager. Why don’t you have your own place?”

Wren shrugged. “Cheaper to live with Hank.”

“Uh huh,” Gavin grunted. Silence fell between them as they ate.

“So, Arie Kennedy has no pictures, memorabilia, or anything to personalize her house. It’s like she doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah, Dipshit has more personality than her,” agreed Gavin.

Wren frowned. “Do you mean Connor?”

“I forget that you’re like, in love with that glorified calculator.”

Wren bristled as heat tingled across her face. “I’m not in love with Connor. I just don’t appreciate your demeaning him because he’s my friend.”

“Whatever,” huffed Gavin. “Let’s look over these records.”

Wren scowled but obliged. She pulled up the phone records on her terminal, scanning for persons if interest while Gavin looked over Arie’s bank records. After an hour of practically nothing, Wren said, “You know, we could probably find a link faster if we asked Connor to look at it.”

“This is our case,” snapped Gavin. “We don’t need him.”

Wren pursed her lips. “What’s the shame in asking for help?”

“We can do this without him.”

Wren shrugged and continued searching, but it was like Arie’s coworker said: Arie didn’t have friends. She hardly talked to anyone outside of business on her cell phone, which did strike Wren as odd. Why use her personal cell phone to conduct business if she did not believe in it?

“I think I found something,” Gavin said after a while. Wren stood from her seat and circled Gavin’s desk to peer at his terminal over his shoulder. “Three months ago, she purchased a Rolex watch. Not even three days later, she got all that money back.”

“What, she returned it?” Wren queried, frowning.

“Looks like it.”

Wren straightened and folded her arms. “A gift for the man she’s having an affair with, maybe?”

“Yeah, but why return it?”

“Well,” sighed Wren as she returned to her desk, “if he’s got a wife and shows up with a brand-new watch, it would raise some questions, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” said Gavin, rubbing his face. “So she desperately needs to keep this relationship secret. You think it could be someone important?”

“Maybe,” said Wren, tilting her head. They lapsed into silence to work again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Vrrrrrrt. Vrrrrrrrt. Vrrrrrrrt. Vrrrrrrrt._

Wren jerked awake, feeling her phone’s vibrations through the desk. She groaned and answered it. “Hey, Hank.”

“Are you still at the station?”

Wren rubbed her face, checking the time. It was one in the morning. “Yeah. I fell asleep.”

“Jesus, at your desk? Is Reed still there?” Hank demanded.

“Yes and,” Wren looked at Gavin’s empty desk and scowled, “no.”

“Prick,” muttered Hank. “Alright, Connor’s comin’ to get ya.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Wren, leaning back in her chair, “I can just call a cab.”

“There’s no need for you to pay for a cab,” said Hank. “Connor’s already backing out of the driveway.”

“Oh,” Wren yawned. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, kid,” said Hank. “We’ve all worked late before.”

“This one wouldn’t need to take so long if Gavin would let us ask Connor for help. I can’t believe Gavin just left…”

“Maybe he’s hazing you,” said Hank. “Alright. I’m goin’ back to bed. Connor should be there soon.”

Wren nodded, thanked Hank again and hung up. She closed down her terminal and packed up her things before stepping out of the station. She sat on a bench outside and waited for Connor to pull up to the curb in Hank’s car. She sighed and trudged toward the car, feeling much like a child at carpool. She slid into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.

The silence between Wren and Connor crackled. It pressed down on her chest and crushed the air in her lungs. Wren sucked her teeth for a moment. “Is everything okay between us?”

Connor’s LED flickered. “Of course. Why would it not be?”

“I don’t know,” Wren muttered, “you’ve just been… different since my parents’.”

“Different,” Connor murmured. Wren glanced at him, her eyes tracing the wrinkle of his brow, the downturn of his lips. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Wren said impatiently. “Forget I said anything.” She turned to the window, watching the amber glow of streetlamps pass. She swallowed to alleviate the sharpness in the back of her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Connor replied. Wren tucked her chin, her chest tightening. “I didn’t mean to… If I did something to make you think that I am upset with you…”

“Connor, it’s okay,” Wren sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I feel like you don’t know how to act around me ever since I showed you my memories.”

Connor said nothing for several seconds. “It was… difficult for me to see.”

Wren pinched her brow and looked at him. “Why?”

Connor’s lips pressed together before he answered her. “You’re my friend. I didn’t like reliving your most horrific moments.”

“Oh,” Wren mumbled. She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said Connor.

“Don’t treat me differently, okay? I value your friendship.”

“I value yours as well,” said Connor. The silence between them thinned in its intensity, though some lingering awkwardness sparkled. Connor parked Hank’s car in the driveway. Wren got out and fell in step with Connor as they approached the front door. Connor unlocked it and let Wren step inside first.

Sumo padded up to greet them. Wren squatted to scratch behind the dog’s enormous ears. “Hey, buddy,” she cooed. “I missed you today.”

Connor closed and locked the front door. He patted Sumo’s head. Wren stood and grabbed her pajamas before disappearing into the bathroom to change. She brushed her teeth and emerged from the bathroom after dressing. She tossed her dirty clothes in the laundry bin before shuffling over to the couch.

“What kept you at the station so long?” Connor queried from the bookshelf. They had purchased some new books and borrowed comics from Josh. 

“We were going through our victim’s bank and phone records. We’re trying to figure out if she was having an affair with someone. I think she was, but… There’s not much to prove that,” said Wren, stifling a yawn.

“If you need any assistance, I’ll be happy to help,” said Connor, walking toward the couch, a comic book tucked under his arm.

“Thank you,” Wren beamed sleepily. She snuggled under her blanket. Sumo padded over to his bed in the corner of the room and slumped down with a low whine. Connor took a seat in his armchair. Wren fell asleep quickly, comforted by the familiarity.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren fixed herself a cup of coffee, barely stifling a yawn.

“You look like shit,” greeted Gavin as he sauntered into the breakroom.

Wren turned on her heel, her eyes narrowing. “Yeah, thanks for just leaving me here last night.”

Gavin shrugged as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “You said you’d take a cab home.”

“You could’ve woken me up.”

“Yeah, but you looked so _cute_ drooling all over your desk,” Gavin mocked.

Wren glowered. “Really mature, Reed.”

Gavin’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, we’re back to a last-name basis? You _are_ mad.”

“I’m mad because you’re immature. We could solve this case faster if you weren’t so busy making everything a bigger dick contest.” Wren burned her tongue on her coffee.

“Get off my balls, will ya?” Gavin barked. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Wren huffed as she headed back toward her desk. “I don’t even know why I try.” She sat down heavily as Gavin stomped after her.

“We don’t need extra help with this case,” he insisted as he sat down. “You’re just making things more complicated than they have to be.”

“ _I’m_ making things more complicated?” Wren hissed. “You’re so threatened by androids being better than you that can’t function properly.”

“Oh yeah?” Gavin challenged. “You’re so busy giving goo-goo eyes at every fuckin’ android that walks past that you don’t know your left hand from your ass!”

“Uh, have you _seen_ the androids?” Wren muttered, lifting a brow.

Gavin did not appreciate her sarcasm and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Wren leaned back in her seat and worked on the phone records. She had gone back nearly a year in records, trying to find a person of interest. She waited for Gavin to go to the bathroom when he finished his coffee. Wren let hers go cold. When Gavin finally stood for his morning whizz, Wren tapped her fingers on the desk, looking over at Connor, who worked on paperwork at his own terminal. As soon as Gavin was out of earshot and eyesight, Wren jumped up and strode over to Connor.

“Hey,” she greeted, sitting on his desk.

Connor brightened as he looked up at her. “Hello.”

“I hate to bother you…”

“You’re not bothering me,” Connor assured her.

Wren managed a smile. “Do you mind helping me go through these phone and bank records?”

Connor nodded, logging out of his terminal. Wren logged in and brought up the records. Connor sat down. “What sort of evidence am I looking for?”

“I’m not sure,” Wren admitted. “We need to find out how Arie Kennedy was communicating with this guy. There’s no repeated number in her phone records. Maybe expensive gifts in her bank records? I’ll take anything at this point. I mean, there’s always the possibility that we’re wrong about this whole affair theory…”

“What about a second phone?” Connor suggested.

Wren’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Connor gestured to the terminal screen. “One year, seven months and four days ago, Arie Kennedy purchased a second phone and an account for it. She wanted it separate from her other phone. She kept it discreet.”

Wren bounced off Connor’s desk, grinning. “Connor, you are an actual Godsend!” She threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug before taking off. She requested the second phone’s records at her terminal once Connor logged out of it. Then, she found Gavin in the breakroom opening a water bottle.

“We have a lead!” she announced.

Gavin paused before taking a sip of water. “Yeah?”

“Arie Kennedy has a second phone,” said Wren excitedly. “I requested the records for it.”

“How’d you find that out?” Gavin asked.

“Connor helped me.”

Gavin’s nostrils broadened. “ _What_?”

“Don’t be a piss-baby about it,” Wren stated, sitting on her hip. “You’re mad that I was right about asking for help.”

“We didn’t need his fucking help. We would’ve found that second phone eventually.”

“Yeah, eventually.”

Gavin pursed his lips and dragged a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t need to butt in everyone’s fucking case because he thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

“He didn’t butt in, and he doesn’t think that,” Wren snapped. “I asked him for help.”

“Because you can’t do anything on your fucking own!” Gavin snarled.

“No, because I’m not so proud that I can’t ask for help when I need it!”

“Whatever,” Gavin rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room. Wren clenched her jaw before returning to her desk. She opened up the second phone’s records and searched for a recurring number. It was extremely easy, as the phone only had one contact. Wren searched the phone number in the police database and found that it was registered to a Mr. Anthony Jameson.

Wren read through his records. In and out of therapy for severe psychological issues. He had a wife and two kids and lived in a penthouse in downtown Detroit. Wren stood and looked around. Gavin was nowhere in sight. She trekked over to Chris and Tina’s desks.

Chris grinned as Wren approached. “Long time, no see.”

Wren smiled. “I know, we only see each other, like, every time one of us is in the breakroom.”

“It’s not enough,” said Chris. Wren rolled her eyes at him.

“You never come see us,” said Tina. “Fake-ass.”

Wren scowled playfully. “Excuse me?”

Tina laughed. She leaned forward. “What’s up?”

“You guys haven’t seen Detective Dickhead, have you?”

Tina snorted. “Yeah, I saw him head to the elevator. Probably to the gym. He goes there when he’s pissed off.”

“Thanks,” Wren muttered.

Chris folded his arms. “What’d you do to piss him off?”

“I asked Connor for help,” Wren huffed.

“Ah,” said Tina. “Yeah, Reed’s not too gung-ho about android help.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

“He’ll come around,” said Chris. “He’s not too bad once you get past all his layers of asshole.”

Wren snorted. “Right. We need to get dinner, the three of us.”

“Yes!” Tina called as Wren headed for the elevator. She took the elevator down to the base level. She searched through the large area, seeking Gavin. She found him at a punching bag, going to town.

“Hey, Reed,” Wren called. “I think I found our guy.”

Gavin punched the bag harder. “Goody-fuckin’-two-shoes for you.”

Wren sighed and folded her arms. “We should go talk to him.”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend to go?” Gavin snapped, punching the bag.

Wren winced. “He’s _not_ my boyfriend.” She watched Gavin roll his eyes and pursed her lips. “And really? You’re gonna be immature about this, too?”

“Yep.”

Wren scowled. “Fine.” She turned on her heel and stormed back to the elevator. She tapped her foot as she rode up to the main level, her arms folded tightly across her chest. They needed to speak with Anthony Jameson, or at least bring him in for questioning. But with Gavin complicating things…

Wren huffed as the elevator dinged with her arrival. She stepped out onto the main level and looked toward Connor. She considered asking him to accompany her. No, she reasoned, that would only incite Gavin’s anger. She grumbled to herself and strode to Gavin’s desk, took his cruiser keys and headed to the parking garage.

Her heartrate accelerated as she neared the cruiser. Her breaths grew shallow and she felt a little dizzy. She had driven since her accident, but she preferred not to drive as much as she could. She took a deep breath and forced her anxiety down before sliding into the front seat. She inputted Anthony Jameson’s address into the car’s GPS and drove to the luxury apartment building. She parked in the designated area for guests and entered the lobby.

Black tile floor glinted in the purple overhead lights. Wren screwed her eyes against the weird lighting as she approached the front desk. She flashed her badge to the receptionist. “Officer Morgan with the DPD. I’m here to speak with Anthony Jameson.”

The secretary, a WR400 android with blue hair, dipped her head. “Of course. The Jamesons live in the penthouse. Here’s keycard for access.”

“Thank you,” said Wren. “I love your hair, by the way.”

The former Traci smiled as she ran a hand through the royal blue locks. “Thanks.”

Wren headed for the elevator, swiped the card and pressed the button that took her to the penthouse. It dinged when she reached the seventieth floor. She stepped into the hallway and approached the front door. She knocked and waited.

A woman answered. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Jameson. My name is Wren Morgan. I’m with the DPD,” said Wren, showing her badge. The woman’s eyes widened. “I’m here to ask your husband a few questions.”

“Has Anthony done something wrong?” queried Mrs. Jameson.

“He’s just a person of interest,” Wren replied. “I only want to ask some questions.”

“Right,” said Mrs. Jameson. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” Wren stepped into the penthouse, which stung her eyes with its whiteness. White floors, walls, minimal décor… It resembled Arie Kennedy’s office and house in design and cleanliness. Wren suppressed a shiver as she followed Mrs. Jameson to the kitchen, where Mrs. Jameson worked on making the two of them tea.

“So, what are you here to ask questions about? Maybe I can help.”

Wren worked her jaw. “Did your husband ever mention a woman named Arie Kennedy?”

“Arie Kennedy… No, not that I remember,” said Mrs. Jameson. She put the mugs in the microwave and waited. When they finished heating, she pulled them out and placed tea bags in them. She brought over a tray of milk, sugar and honey, as well as the steeping tea.

“Thank you,” said Wren, taking one of the mugs. She let the warmth flood from her hands, up her arms and to her shoulders. “Your apartment is so… clean. I love the minimalist look.”

Mrs. Jameson’s doe eyes flicked around. “Oh. Right. My husband likes this style.”

“And you don’t?” Wren queried, plopping a sugar cube into her tea.

“I like some color,” said Mrs. Jameson, “but it aggravates my husband’s eyes.”

“I bet he gets in a bad mood every time he steps foot in the lobby.” Wren brought the tea to her lips.

Mrs. James snorted. “Yes, he always talks about how atrocious it is.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place cleaner than this,” said Wren, looking around at the gleaming white countertops. “I mean, even hospitals are dirtier.”

Mrs. Jameson shifted. “Yes, well, my husband prefers it clean.”

“What do you do, Mrs. Jameson?” Wren asked suddenly.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Jameson, fluttering her lashes. “Well, I wake up early, make my husband his coffee and scrambled eggs. After he leaves, I drink my morning smoothie, get the kids ready for school and then take them to school. I come back, clean the house and then go workout. Then I come home, take a shower, clean again and then go and pick up the kids.”

“Are they still at school?” Wren queried, glancing at the clock.

“No, they’re with their grandparents this weekend,” said Mrs. Jameson.

Wren nodded. “You have a pretty set routine.”

“Anthony says it’s important to stick to a routine.”

“Don’t you ever want a break?” Wren lifted a brow.

Mrs. Jameson cleared her throat. Her eyes flicked to the clock. “From time to time. But Anthony gets upset if we divert…”

“Mrs. Jameson,” Wren murmured, “I know your husband is controlling. That is classified as abuse.”

Mrs. Jameson blinked. “N-no, he loves me.”

Wren pressed her lips together. She glanced at the clock. If Anthony’s schedule was as strict as his wife’s, he would arrive home soon. She met Mrs. Jameson’s gaze. “What’s he like during sex?”

A flush crept across Mrs. Jameson’s cheeks. “I hardly think that’s appropriate!”

“He was probably pretty vanilla at first,” said Wren, ignoring Mrs. Jameson’s protest. “It was almost as scheduled as everything else in your lives. But lately… I think something changed. It’s a bit warm to be wearing a turtleneck, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Jameson’s hand flew to her throat. “Anthony says that modesty is important.”

“Anthony says,” Wren repeated. “But what do you say?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

Wren leaned back. “I think Anthony controls everything under this roof. I think that he’s been scheduling everything down to a T. But I think, after two nights ago, he got messy. And he got messy during sex. Am I right?”

Mrs. Jameson gaped at Wren. “How did you know?”

“He has to be in control,” said Wren. “Sociopaths do. He lost control, though. He was living a double life, and it was catching up to him. So, he snapped. He killed Arie Kennedy because I think you confronted him about the affair.”

Mrs. Jameson’s teary eyes widened. “A-affair?”

Wren lifted her eyebrows. “You didn’t know?”

“No…” Mrs. Jameson lowered her gaze.

Wren’s stomach twisted. She frowned. “Then I think Arie Kennedy threatened to tell you, and your husband killed her. Since he didn’t have that outlet to satisfy his sexual needs, he turned to you. You didn’t complain, because you felt like he’d been distant from you for a year and seven months, right?”

Mrs. Jameson lifted her gaze. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because when he walks through that door and sees me, he’s going to lose control again,” Wren muttered. “I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Mrs. Jameson parted her lips to reply, but the front door opened. She stilled and Wren nodded to her. “Hello, honey,” Mrs. Jameson called out in a choked voice, “there’s an officer here to see you.”

Wren turned to look down the hall and found herself staring at Anthony Jameson. He enlarged his eyes before turning and taking off through the door. Wren jumped from her chair and chased after him. He reached the elevator before she did. The doors slid shut.

“Shit,” Wren muttered.

“There are a set of emergency stairs,” whispered Mrs. Jameson from the doorway, pointing down the hall.

Wren nodded. “Thank you. Lock yourself in the apartment! Don’t let your husband back in!” She took off down the hall and hurried down the emergency stairs. She jumped over flights until she reached one of the lower levels and took the elevator to the lobby. She rushed to the front desk, panting.

“Which way did he go?” she demanded.

The blue-haired android widened her eyes and pointed out the door. “Toward the alley!”

Wren nodded and hurried outside. She cornered Anthony in the alley, though he tried to climb the fence. Wren grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him down. They faced each other, fists raised and both panting. Anthony swung a punch, but Wren grabbed his arm. She kicked the inside of his knee, twisted his wrist and kneed him in the back, pinning him to the ground. Anthony twisted, but Wren held him down. He grabbed a broken bottle and slashed. Wren wrenched back, but the ragged edges of the bottle sliced her hip. She hissed but drew her fist back and punched Anthony in the face. While he was dazed, she grabbed his wrist and cuffed it.

She recited his rights as she arrested him. “You know, I was only here to ask questions.” She walked him to her cruiser, her side throbbing. She forgot about it as she drove back to the station. She hauled Anthony Jameson into the station and toward the holding cells.

Gavin jumped up when he saw her. “What the fuck, Wren? We’re supposed to just question him!”

“Yeah,” Wren panted, “and he ran. Then he attacked me.”

“Attacked you?” Gavin blinked.

“Uh huh,” said Wren. “Why don’t you go put him in a cell?”

Gavin glowered but complied. Wren watched him go, her head spinning. When was the last time she’d eaten? Several people stared at her, thanks to Gavin’s outburst. Chris and Tina walked over, both grinning. Chris slapped Wren’s back.

“Way to go, Wren. Not standard protocol, but…” Chris grinned. Wren’s vision blurred as her head continued to whirl. She swayed on the spot. Chris gripped her shoulders to steady her. “Whoa, whoa. You okay?”

Wren pulled her hand away from her side, her fingers sticking together from the blood. “I’m great…”

“Holy shit, she’s bleeding.”

“Hank! Connor!” Chris called.

Wren’s eyes fluttered shut as she swayed. “Need… to raise… blood sugar…”

“Uh, yeah, because you’ve lost blood, dumbass,” said Chris.

“What’s wrong?” Hank asked.

Wren forced her eyes open. She sought Connor’s face. A smile tugged weakly at the corners of her mouth when she saw him, his forehead tight and his eyes soft. He zeroed in on her wound immediately. He stepped forward. “She needs first aid.”

“Sublevel two,” said Chris. “Patch her up. If she needs to go to the hospital, I’ll drive.”

“I’ll grab her something to eat,” said Tina. Connor walked Wren to the elevator. Her legs shook as the adrenaline drained out of her system with each drop of blood that oozed out of her cut.

“S’not that bad,” she insisted. “Just… ow… long.”

“Don’t speak,” Connor insisted curtly. Wren fell silent. He led her off the elevator and into a room, where he sat her on a table. He sifted through the cabinets, searching for the items he needed. Wren winced and pulled her shirt off. She glanced down at the cut. It looked worse than she thought it was. It was long and jagged. It started deep but grew lighter as it spread from the side of her hip toward her bellybutton.

Connor dabbed rubbing alcohol onto a cotton swab. “I have to clean the wound.”

“I know the drill,” Wren muttered, leaning her head back. Connor’s brow pinched as he dabbed Wren’s wound with the alcohol-soaked swab. Wren sucked in a sharp breath and curled her hands around the edge of the table. Wren focused on Connor’s LED, which cycled yellow but occasionally flickered red. “Connor? You okay?”

Connor’s mouth tightened, harshening the contours of his face. He avoided Wren’s gaze as he cleaned the blood off of her and sterilized the wound. She gritted her teeth to keep from swearing or crying out. “Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

“I didn’t –ow! –want to piss Gavin off even more,” Wren replied. She nearly kicked Connor in the groin (by accident) when he pressed the wound with fresh alcohol.

“You should’ve endured his anger rather than risk your safety,” Connor said coolly.

Wren raised her eyebrows. “I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” Connor snapped. His eyes met Wren’s. The soft warmth that he usually regarded her with was replaced with a hard coolness. Wren’s stomach twisted. Connor returned his focus to Wren’s wound. She watched him with a dry mouth. The lump in her throat rendered her unable to speak. Connor examined the wound. “I don’t think you will need stitches.”

“Okay,” Wren muttered. He unwrapped a bandage that contained antiseptic cream in it. He placed it over Wren’s wound, running his fingers along it to smooth out any creases. Wren bit back a groan as Connor applied pressure to the wound and bandaged it a second time.

“You’re smarter than this, Wren,” Connor said quietly. He still seemed angry, though it softened when Wren winced. Connor wrapped gauze around her torso, looping his arms around her in the process.

“I didn’t think he’d run or attack me,” Wren retorted. “I handled it. This isn’t even that bad of a wound. I don’t get why you’re so angry with me.”

Connor’s eyes flashed to hers. He parted his lips then closed his mouth. He worked his jaw, grinding his teeth together. Wren held his gaze, unwavering. He looked down. “I… I just saw you covered in blood, and… I was worried, alright?”

Wren unstiffened. She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m okay, Connor.”

“Next time, please come get me,” Connor said, lifting his gaze to meet Wren’s. His brow puckered, tugging at Wren’s heart. She pursed her lips and nodded. She was suddenly very aware that she wore no shirt. She was sitting in her bra, and Connor’s hand rested on her bare side. His LED flashed yellow and his hand jerked away from her. “You… um, I’ll go find you a shirt.”

He stepped out of the room, leaving Wren shirtless on the table. She glanced down at herself, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach as she noticed faint scars. Prometheus had done their best to treat Wren with best medical advancements to reduce the number of scars on her body. She might have been an assassin which came with its own occupational hazards, but she was supposed to be a beautiful assassin. She was a seductress, a manipulator and a killer.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of seducing and manipulating Connor. She quickly covered herself with her arms. She never wanted to do that to him.

He entered the room, a Detroit Police T-shirt in hand. He handed it to her. She took it and pulled it over her head quickly, tugging at her wound. She grimaced but ignored it. Connor tensed as Wren looked at him, his LED flickering.

“Captain Fowler wants to speak with you,” he said.

Wren pursed her lips and nodded. She hopped off the table, her body brushing against Connor’s. A lump formed in her throat. She jerked away, grabbed her ripped, bloody shirt and stalked toward the elevator, Connor close behind. They rode up to the main level in silence. Wren’s cheeks warmed at the thought that Connor had seen her shirtless. He had before, but… Somehow, this felt different.

She stepped off the elevator and strode to Fowler’s office, holding her head high, despite the tossing in her stomach. She glanced toward Hank and Connor, who both regarded her with creased brows. They looked remarkably like father and son in that moment. Wren’s lips twitched, despite her mounting dread as she entered Fowler’s office.

Captain Fowler looked up at her, his heavy brow wrinkling. “Nothing too serious, I hope?” He nodded to Wren’s side.

“I’m fine.”

“Good,” said Fowler, folding his hands on his desk. His face contorted with a scowl. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Wren frowned. “I went to question a person of interest.”

“I assign partners, not because it really tickles my funny bone, but because this job is dangerous. I like to keep my detectives and officers alive and uninjured.”

“Detective Reed was not cooperating with me,” said Wren.

“So, you either wait to question or you ask someone else to go with you. You don’t just go off by yourself, _especially_ if you think the person of interest could be dangerous. That’s reckless.”

Wren bowed her head. “I understand, sir.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You did well in your undercover work, but I’m also beginning to think that recklessness is a default for you,” Fowler snapped.

Wren looked at him. “When was I reckless?”

“You jump into a freezing river –”

“Officer Miller jumped with me –”

“You lock the damn door while you’re alone in a house with a rapist –”

“I was trying to be authentic –”

“You break some prick’s nose in a bar –”

“He put his hands on Connor first!”

“Enough, Officer Morgan!” Fowler barked. Wren pursed her lips and pushed a hot breath through her nostrils. Fowler rubbed his face with his hands. “You’ve got some sort of hero complex, Wren.”

“I don’t have a hero complex, sir,” Wren insisted.

“You’re a good cop,” said Fowler. “You get the job done, but it’s the way you do it. Yes, we’re supposed to protect and serve. But we have regulations about protecting ourselves, too. And it seems like you don’t care what happens to you. You’re suspended from field work for a week. You’re confined to this office and your desk for one week. Got it?”

Wren clenched her teeth for a moment. She lowered her head, took a breath, and then looked up at Fowler again. “Yes sir.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

Wren nodded and pushed open Fowler’s office door. She stopped before heading to Hank and Connor’s desks. They stared at her, but she turned and walked away, heading for Tina. She cared deeply for Hank and Connor, but she did not want to face them at the moment. She especially wanted to avoid Connor. She needed time and space away from Hank and Connor, but she didn’t want to sit and discuss literature with Josh or paint with Markus. She wanted _girl_ time.

“Tina,” Wren said, reaching her friend’s desk, “you free tonight?”

Tina lifted her eyebrows. “Yeah.”

“I’m in need of…” Wren shrugged. In truth, she had not experienced a girls’ night. “A girls’ night.”

Tina grinned. “Are we talking clubbing or a night in?”

“Both,” Wren said. “I’m confined to desk work.”

Tina saluted. “We can do that.”

Wren turned to leave, then stopped and turned, smirking. “Do you care if I invite my other friend?”

Tina shrugged. “Go ahead. I have too many guy friends.”

Wren nodded and headed to her desk and grabbed her phone. She texted North and waited.

  **[New Text Message]**

**North: Yeah I’m down to hang.**

**Wren: I invited my friend Tina**

**North: oh**

**Wren: she’s cool**

**Wren: and you’re cool**

**Wren: figured we could combine our collective coolness**

**Wren: plus you’re always with josh and markus**

**Wren: not that there’s anything wrong with them**

**Wren: you just need more gal pals**

**North: ok!!! rA9 wren you rapid fire text**

**North: and gal pals???**

**Wren: you’re just surrounded by testosterone**

**North: androids don’t have testosterone**

**Wren: would you rather sit in your office or whatever it is you do at night**

**Wren: idk where you live lol**

**North: have you just been assuming I stay at my office 24/7?**

**Wren: I never see you leave**

**North: rA9**

**North: you’re so dumb**

**Wren: THANKS**

**North: lmao**

**North: but yeah I’ll come**

**North: even tho your friend is a human**

**North: and introductions are always so weird**

**North: I’ll come**

**North: btw is everything ok??? you never ask to hang out**

**North: you usually just show up lol**

**Wren: I rapid fire text??? I rapid fire text???**

**Wren: me?**

**Wren: you just sent me 7 consecutive text messages. Anyway, yeah I’m ok. Just got in trouble at work, connor got lowkey mad at me annnnd… pretty sure hank is too** **judging by the STANK EYE he’s giving me**

**Wren: like it’s hardcore**

**Wren: lowkey afraid for my life rn**

**North: why are they mad at you?**

**Wren: ummm I went to question a person of interest by myself bc Gavin Reed is an actual CHILD and I got lightly stabbed**

**North: what**

**North: wtf**

**North: wren**

**North: what does that even mean???**

**North: lightly stabbed**

**North: so I see why they’re mad…**

**Wren: yeah I do too**

**Wren: but I just need a break from boys**

**Wren: especially connor**

**North: is he giving you the stank eye too**

**North: lmao I can’t even picture that**

**North: I’m just imagining his face all scrunched up**

**North: now I can’t stop laughing**

**Wren: I’m the dumb one…?**

**Wren: yeah, not quite the stank eye… something else… I’ll explain later**

**North: wear your new dress**

**Wren: might look funky under my bandages**

**North: one word**

**North: SPANX**

**Wren: why the hell do you know what SPANX is??? You’re an android??? You literally have a perfect body???**

**North: I’m also a political activist**

**North: I know things**

**Wren: lmfao I’m DEAD**

Wren grinned at her phone and started a group text between her, Tina and North.

**[Unnamed Group]**

**Wren: so I’m in the mood to dance and go out but also to chill and watch movies**

**Tina: hell yeah a sleepover**

**North: I don’t sleep**

**Tina: me neither lmaoooo**

**North: ???**

**Tina: this is Tina btw**

**North: North**

**Tina: that’s a kickass name**

**North: thanks**

**Tina: and I stay up super late all the time**

**Wren: lmao what even is sleep**

**Tina: sleep??? Don’t know her**

**Wren: new phone who dis**

**Wren: also sorry if this is weird or awkward**

**Tina: I’m always open to new experiences**

**North: Markus insists that I need more of the “human experience” so I’m game**

**Tina: lmao human experience wtf**

**Tina: wait**

**Tina: you’re not human**

**Tina: you’re an android???**

**North: Wren, you didn’t tell her?**

**Wren: I didn’t think it mattered**

**Tina: it doesn’t!!! I was just surprised**

**Tina: wait**

**Tina: Markus**

**Tina: North**

**Tina: HOLY SHIT**

**Tina: I AM SO FUCKING DUMB**

**Tina: wow**

**Tina: I’m so sorry**

**North: you’re fine**

**Wren: yeah I didn’t say anything lol**

**Wren: I’m forcing you guys to be friends**

**Tina: I’m so down with this**

**Tina: the only other androids I know are the ones who work here**

**Tina: Connor and Casper and the secretaries and the janitor**

**Tina: but mostly Connor and Casper**

**Tina: Casper’s sweet**

**Tina: so is Connor obvi**

**Tina: but ya know**

**Tina: they’re dudes and they’re coworkers**

**North: oh my gosh rapid fire texting**

**Wren: you’re not allowed to shit on rapid fire texting**

**Wren: literally sent me SEVEN TEXTS IN A ROW**

**North: yeah lol**

**Wren: ok so where’s a good club**

**North: not the Eden Club**

**Wren: damn**

**Wren: I wanted to pole dance**

**Wren: I used to be a stripper**

**North: WHAT**

**Tina: WHEN WHAT HOW WHO WHERE**

**Wren: lmao long time ago**

**Wren: right after college**

**Wren: I wonder if I still got the moves**

**North: we’re not going to the Eden Club**

**North: I’d rather die**

**Wren: lol ok we won’t**

**Tina: you can just pole dance on a streetlamp or something**

**Wren: LMFAO detroit’s finest**

**Tina: hahahahahaha omg fowler would FLAY US ALIVE**

**Tina: as for club…**

**Tina: I know a place**

**North: sounds sketchy**

**North: I like it**

**Tina: I like how you think**

**Tina: it’s called Enigma**

**Tina: it’s a nightclub so it’s strictly alcohol and dancing**

**Tina: we can go to my apartment when we’re done dancing**

**Wren: sounds good**

**North: what time**

**Tina: well Enigma doesn’t even really open until like 9 or 10**

**Tina: wren we could eat beforehand and then pick up North**

**Wren: yeah sure**

**Wren: well I should get ready first or at least grab my bag. So I need to go home first**

**Tina: aight**

**Tina: I’ll pick you up around 6:30**

**Tina: we’ll grab fast food**

**Tina: pick up North**

**Tina: and then idk**

**Tina: we can go to my place and dick around with makeup or something**

**Wren: yeah lol I’m decent at makeup but… you know**

**North: it’s one of my features to have makeup appear on my face**

**North: but I am good with hair**

**Tina: and see I suck at hair which is why I keep mine fairly short**

**Wren: I’m growing mine out**

**Tina: I can do makeup tho**

**Wren: I’m just useless**

**North: truuuuuueeee**

**Wren: why are you so mean to me**

**North: I’m mean to everybody**

**Wren: so I’m not special?**

**North: nope**

**Wren: idk how I feel about that**

**Tina: we better go. Fowler looks like he wants to murder us**

**Wren: oh yea**

**Wren: see you guys tonight!**

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren folded her arms in the backseat of Hank’s car.

“It sucks that you’re stuck with desk duty, but serves you right,” said Hank. “You need to be more careful, Wren.”

“Okay,” Wren sighed. “I will.”

Hank looked at her through the rearview mirror. “I’m serious, Wren.”

Wren met his gaze through the mirror. “I am, too.”

Hank dipped his head. “Good.” A moment of silence lapsed among the three of them. Hank cleared his throat. “So, what were you giggling about earlier? You seemed weirdly happy to be stuck with desk duty.”

“Oh,” Wren brightened, “I’m going out with Tina and North tonight. North’s never experienced a girls’ night. And neither have I. I just need to decompress after today.”

“Sounds… fun,” said Hank, shrugging. “What’re you gonna do?”

“We’re going dancing and then we’re going to hang out at Tina’s. I’m just going to stay there tonight so that no one has to drive me home.” Wren’s eyes flicked to Connor, who turned his head slightly.

“Is dancing wise? You might upset your wound,” said Connor.

“I’ll be careful,” Wren assured him. She caught the wrinkle of his brow and sighed. “Connor, I’ll be with Tina and North. You don’t need to worry.”

He stiffened in his seat, facing forward again. “I’m not worried.”

Wren lifted a brow and Hank snorted.

When they reached the house, Wren closed herself in the bathroom. She applied her base makeup but kept it light, just in case Tina decided to add more. She pulled on some SPANX over her bandages to flatten them. Then, she pulled on her dress. She turned to catch her side profile in the mirror, making sure that her bandages were invisible. Satisfied, she slipped on a pair of black heels.

**[New Text Message from Tina]**

**Tina: yo bitch I’m here**

**Wren: okie dokie**

**Tina: never say that again**

Wren laughed and stepped into the living room. She packed a bag quickly. She straightened and caught Hank and Connor staring at her.

“Not bad, kid,” said Hank. “Have fun. Make good decisions.”

Wren snorted and reached for her bag, but Connor grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder. She lifted her eyebrows at him.

“You shouldn’t lift heavy things,” he explained. He avoided looking at her. A pinkish blue blush touched his cheeks.

Wren lifted her eyebrows. She tried not to smile and stepped out of the house with Connor. They crossed the yard to Tina’s car.

Tina rolled down the window. “Damn, you look good! Hey, Connor.”

“Hello, Officer Chen,” said Connor, placing Wren’s bag into Tina’s trunk. He closed the trunk and met Wren’s gaze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wren nodded and smiled. “See ya.”

Connor glanced toward her lips and flicked over her dress before he turned and headed back toward the house. Wren smirked and slid into the passenger seat. Tina’s eyebrows lifted so high that Wren saw them peek over Tina’s sunglasses.

“Uh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an android flustered.”

Wren buckled her seatbelt as Tina pulled out of the neighborhood. “You think he was?”

“Uh, definitely,” said Tina. They went through a drive-through and picked up fries and shakes before heading to Jericho to pick up North.

When they reached Jericho, Tina stared up at the tall building. “Damn. That’s impressive that they did that.”

“You should tell them that,” said Wren. “Park there.”

Tina parked where Wren instructed. She frowned. “We’re getting out?”

“Yeah,” said Wren. “We should at least say hi. Plus, North said her apartment is the penthouse of this building, and she’s changing. She wants us to watch Markus’s reaction to her.”

“I thought they were already a thing,” said Tina as she got out of the car. They headed into the building, walking through security and toward the elevator.

“They are and they aren’t,” replied Wren. She road to the floor containing Josh’s, North’s and Markus’s offices. She led the way to Josh’s office and knocked on the door.

“It’s open,” called Josh.

Wren pushed open the door. Josh brightened when she entered. He lifted his eyebrows. “Going out?”

Wren grinned. “No, these are my pajamas.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “You forget that I used to teach college students.”

“You’re practically a college student yourself,” said Tina.

“Oh, yeah,” Wren said. “Josh, this is Tina. Tina, this is Josh. She works with me at the DPD.”

Josh stood and shook Tina’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” said Tina. She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Lowkey fangirling right now. I mean, I was neutral about the android movement at first, but then I got to know Connor, and I knew Wren was friends with you guys too, and I started following it and now I’m supportive. I watched the whole thing on the news when it first happened.”

Josh smiled. “I’m glad to meet another human supporter.”

Wren folded her arms. “Is Markus here?”

“Yeah,” said Josh. “He and I were actually about to head over to Carl’s.”

Wren, Tina and Josh left his office and headed for the elevator, which opened up to reveal North in her figure-hugging dress.

“Wow,” said Josh. “You look great.”

North beamed. “Thanks, Josh.”

Markus rounded the corner. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he saw Wren. “You look nice. I’m glad you guys are going out.” His footsteps faltered when he noticed North standing at the end of the hall.

Wren hid her simper. “Markus, this is my friend, Tina. She works with me at the DPD.”

Markus’s lips parted and he tore his bi-colored eyes from North to look at Wren. “Hm?”

Wren swallowed a laugh. “This is my friend Tina.”

Markus raised his eyebrows. “Oh, nice to meet you.”

North stepped onto the elevator and held the doors open while everyone piled inside. The descent to the lobby involved a crackling silence. Wren pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh as she caught Josh’s eye. He puffed out his cheeks and pursed his lips.

“You, uh, you look nice, North,” said Markus.

“Thanks,” said North. “Hope you guys have fun at Carl’s tonight. Give him my love, please.”

She stepped off the elevator first, sashaying her hips. Markus stared after her, his lips parted. “Yeah, I will…”

Wren and Tina followed North out, but Wren dared not laugh until they were in Tina’s car.

“Did you see the look on his face?” Wren snorted.

“Dude, I have no idea what’s going on, but he was definitely impressed,” said Tina.

North grinned. “You think so?”

“Uh, I know so,” said Wren.

North leaned into the seat, smiling. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to wear this dress. Thank you for inviting me!”

“Of course,” said Wren.

“I thought you guys were a thing?” Tina asked, looking at North through the rearview. “I mean, you guys kissed on TV and all.”

North sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” said Tina, though she sounded a little disappointed. Wren twisted in her seat and raised her eyebrows at the android.

North glowered for a brief second and folded her arms. Then, she rolled her eyes. “There was another leader of Jericho, Simon. Markus had feelings for both of us. Simon died, and I think Markus blames himself. No, I know he does. He might blame me, too. Markus told me that he thinks my feelings for him came from infatuation. He thinks that I don’t really love him, I just love the _idea_ of him because he freed our people.”

“Damn,” said Tina.

“You do love him, though?” Wren queried.

“Yes,” insisted North.

Wren folded her arms and shifted in her seat. “How… How do you know?”

“What do you mean?” North asked.

“How do you know you love him?” Wren clarified, a blush creeping up her neck.

“Uh,” said North, “I’m not sure. I… I just want him to be part of every aspect of my life. I want to know every part of him and for him to know every part of me. He’s my best friend… But we’ve kind of grown apart these past few weeks. I’ve just been distancing myself.”

Wren turned to look at her friend. North hugged herself and lowered her gaze, blushing a light blue. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

North looked up, her eyebrows shooting toward her hairline. “It’s okay. I… I’m actually glad that you asked me along tonight. I was kind of dreading going to Carl’s and being around Markus. He just hasn’t made a move, you know?”

“Well, you’re a fucking catch,” said Tina, pulling into a parking garage. She parked her car in her designated spot and shut off the engine. “And I know we don’t really know each other, so this might be weird. But, you are seriously one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. We’ve only officially been introduced for a few hours, but still.”

North’s lips twitched. “Thanks.”

They got out of the car, grabbed their bags and then walked across the skywalk to the apartment building. They took an elevator up to Tina’s apartment –number 7120. Tina unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. Wren gazed around the mauve and grey décor. It looked sophisticated yet cozy. A tabby cat rubbed itself against the dark purple couch.

“That’s Lorraine,” said Tina, gesturing to the cat. “Ed’s probably hiding under my bed.”

“Cute,” said Wren, crouching and holding her hand out to the cat. Lorraine curved her back under Wren’s palm.

“So,” said Tina, clapping her hands together, “Wren, I can do your makeup after I finish mine.”

“While you do your makeup, I can do her hair,” suggested North.

“Great idea,” said Tina. She left to retrieve three bags worth of makeup. She spread them out on the floor. North retrieved a curling iron from her bag and plugged it in. Tina left the room and retrieved a large mirror, which she leaned up against the wall.

She worked on her eyeshadow first. “So, Wren. Is there a little somethin’-somethin’ going on between you and Connor? Because I swear he was trying to look anywhere _but_ you earlier.”

Wren groaned. “I don’t know. That’s sort of why I asked North how she knew she loved Markus. I haven’t really been in a healthy relationship before, so I don’t know.”

North gaped at Wren for a moment. Then, she threw her head back and laughed. “I knew it! I didn’t want to say anything, but…” She winked and Wren hid her face.

North worked on curling Wren’s hair while Tina applied her eyeshadow with an almost expert hand. Tina swiped mascara over her lashes. “Well, is there something?”

“I don’t know,” Wren sighed. “That’s why I wanted to get out tonight. I need space from Connor. He got mad at me for what happened today.”

“Oh yeah,” said North, “the light stabbing.”

“Yeah.”

Tina snorted. “It’s because he cares about you.”

“I know he cares about me,” said Wren. “He’s told me as much. And I’ve told him. But we both said _family_. And yeah, he and Hank are the closest thing I have to a real family, but… I feel like I might want more with Connor. I can’t really describe it. I mean, he’s definitely my best friend. But… He’s more, too.”

“You don’t have to define it,” said Tina. “I think that love kind of transcends definition and categorization. You say it’s more, and I believe you.”

“Thank you,” said Wren, relaxing. She bit her lip. “I’ve been trying to deny it or logic my way through this, but… I do think I love him.” She felt lighter when she spoke the words.

“Well, yeah. Anyone with eyes can tell that,” said North. She released a lock of Wren’s hair from the iron, allowing a curl to drop down. North tilted her head. “But Wren, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Wren narrowed her eyes. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“Am I the type of person to spare feelings?”

“No.”

“There’s your answer.”

“And I saw him today, too,” said Tina, applying her foundation. “He just about swallowed his tongue looking at you.”

Wren tried to contain her smile but failed. She bit her lip. “I don’t want to misinterpret things.”

“I think Connor can tell what others are feeling for the most part,” said North, “but he’s a bit confused when it comes to himself.”

“Yeah, I’d say that if you’re just now sorting it out for yourself, then he probably hasn’t, either,” agreed Tina.

Wren inhaled deeply. “Probably.”

“But don’t give up,” said North.

“Yeah. You guys can insist you’re ‘just friends’ all you want, but ‘just friends’ don’t look at each other the way you and Connor do. I’ve seen it at the station,” said Tina.

Wren pressed her lips together and nodded. “I just don’t want to pressure him by saying anything.”

“So… Date other people,” suggested North. “You know, just for fun. Go out with us more often. Get a few more sexy outfits. Too bad that gala isn’t until November… Maybe he can go suit shopping when we go looking for dresses. I’m assuming you’re gonna go. Even if Connor doesn’t ask you –which I’m sure he will –I will ask you.”

Wren huffed. “What, make him jealous?”

“Sort of,” said North. “Just… remind him that you’re wanted.”

“Or get in danger,” snorted Tina. “That draws a reaction from him, huh?”

“Yeah, an angry one,” muttered Wren. “I don’t want to push him away.”

“Yeah, bad advice,” said Tina. She set her makeup and spun around to face Wren. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

North teased Wren’s curled hair and shook out the curls so that they were loose. “We could send Connor some pics of you having fun tonight.”

“Markus, too,” said Wren, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, good idea,” said Tina. “We need to push those boys to confess!”

Wren widened her eyebrows. “That sounds intense.”

“Yeah,” chuckled North, “don’t torture them,”    

“Men,” Tina shrugged, “android and human alike, are stupid. Even if they’re smart, they’re stupid.”

“Agreed,” said North.

Wren grinned, warmth spreading from her chest to her fingertips.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren felt the bass from the music reverberating through her bones. She grinned at the electric blue light. A woman pushed past Tina, North and Wren and headed for the dance floor.

“That’s a whole mommy right there,” said Tina.

“A what?” Wren said over the music.

“A whole mommy,” repeated Tina.

North laughed. “What is that?”

“It’s like when you find the person super attractive, like they’re the whole package,” explained Tina. “For a guy, you say ‘that’s a whole daddy.’”

North and Wren nearly doubled over with laughter.

“Come on,” Wren wheezed after a moment, “let’s dance!”

She led the way to the dance floor. North was not shy and began shaking her hips. She raised her arms over her head. Wren shook her hips and rolled her stomach. Tina was definitely the poorest dancer of their group, but she was a good sport about it. The three of them danced until Tina and Wren were out of breath.

“You guys have to teach me your ways later!” Tina shouted.

Wren and North proceeded to point out “whole daddies” the rest of the evening.

“Ugh,” Tina groaned as North pointed out another one, “I regret teaching you guys that term.”

Wren laughed and continued to dance, careful not to pull on her wound. Eventually, Tina expressed her tiredness. The three of them left the club and returned to Tina’s, where they dressed in more comfortable attire. Wren changed her bandages, wincing. She removed her makeup and brushed her hair, which maintained a nice wave. She padded into the living room, the smell of popcorn wafting over her.

“We’re gonna watch some movies,” said Tina.

“Look what I sent Connor,” snickered North, holding up her phone. Wren looked at it, her eyes wide. The video showed her swaying her hips and twirling. Wren laughed at Connor’s response.

**Connor: Did you mean to send this to me, North?**

**North: Yesssss**

**Connor: I don’t understand why.**

**North: Isn’t she cute???**

**Connor: Yes.**

**North: gtg**

**Connor: Please be safe.**

Wren sent a video of North and herself dancing to Markus.

**Markus: haha, glad you guys are having fun.**

**Wren: You need to take North dancing!**

**Markus: I’ll keep that in mind.**

 Wren and North giggled together as Tina brought a bowl of popcorn and turned on the TV.

“We’re going classic chick flick since North needs the ‘human experience.’”

“Hell yes,” said Wren. “What movie?”

“We’ll start with something a little older,” said Tina. “How about _The Other Woman_?”

“Sounds good,” said Wren. She had no clue what movie that was, but snuggled in between an android and a human, she didn’t really care.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning, Tina and Wren got coffee while North accompanied them. They sat a round high-table. Wren curled her fingers around her cup. She felt the warmth through her synthetic hands, but she figured for Tina, it was a stronger sensation. Tina inhaled deeply.

“I’m ready for this heat to go,” she said. “I’m ready for August to be done with. Just letting you know, I’m a Halloween fanatic. I’ll host scary movie nights every weekend. And I like to go to those haunted attractions. You know, where people wear masks and jump out and scare you?”

North raised a brow. “You do that for fun?”

“Yeah,” said Tina, brightening. “You should come! It’s so much more fun if you have a group. And you could invite Markus, Josh and Connor! Haunted houses are a good excuse to hold their hands, just sayin’.”

North laughed. “I’ll consider it.”

“Speaking of those silly boys,” said Tina, leaning forward, “it is now our mission to help each other. I’m not interested in anyone personally, but if you know of any ladies who like a woman in uniform, hit me up.”

North and Wren snickered. North tucked her hair behind her ear. “If you don’t mind dating an android. I don’t really come across a lot of human single ladies.”

Tina shrugged. Then, she frowned. “Are human-android relationships even legal?”

“They’re not _illegal_ ,” said North, raising her eyebrows.

“I won’t be surprised if they’re a little taboo at first,” said Wren, sipping her coffee. “But people will come around eventually. Progress, unfortunately, is extremely slow.”

“Amen,” said Tina, toasting her coffee cup. She sipped from it. “But I’m serious. We’re going to get your stupid boys to realize and admit their feelings. I’ll host game nights at my apartment. You guys need to work on hanging out outside of work and all that.”

“Deal,” said North. She looked at Wren. “Markus can get wrapped up in work. If you and Connor ever want to catch a movie or something, he’ll be less inclined to say no.”

“Okay,” said Wren. Her phone vibrated.

**[New Text Message: Connor]**

**Connor: I’m going to Jericho to return a few books to Josh. I can take you home if you meet me there.**

**Wren: Ok**

Wren shoved her phone in her back pocket. After they finished their coffee, Tina drove to Jericho to drop North and Wren off.

“North, you are amazing and I’m glad we did this.”

North smiled. “I’m glad, too.”

“Yeah, I had fun,” said Wren. “Thanks for agreeing to do this, guys.”

“Oh, it was such a terrible night. What a pain in the ass,” Tina feigned swooning. She grinned. “I’ll see you at work. Until next time, North.”

Wren and North waved goodbye as Tina backed out of the parking lot and drove off.

“She’s cool,” said North as she and Wren trekked into Jericho.

“Yeah,” Wren agreed. “I’m glad that the three of us got along so well.”

“Me too,” said North. “I’ve needed more friends. I really needed to talk about what’s going on with me and Markus, even to a total stranger. I’m working on opening up better.”

“Yeah, sorry if I put you on the spot,” Wren said as they entered the elevator.

“You’re fine,” North assured her. “I think that sometimes I need to be put on the spot. Maybe that’s why Markus has trouble getting through to me.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself,” said Wren, placing a hand on North’s arm. “I mean, yeah, you can be difficult, but he’s being difficult, too.”

“He keeps pushing me away, and I just sort of decided to distance myself,” said North, her shoulders slumping. “But it hurts because I do love him, in my own fucked-up way. He and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye during the liberation. I wanted to act more often than not, and his pacifism felt like inaction to me. But I supported him, no matter what. And I have a lot of anger toward humans that he sort of understands, but he didn’t have the same experiences as me. He was a caretaker android to Carl freaking Manfred. He even admitted that he had cushy life before waking up. There’s just a difference there that… I don’t know.”

“He doesn’t have as much healing to do,” Wren murmured.

“Yeah,” sighed North. “And what I’ve always thought about love has been violent and like a storm, but with him, it’s… peaceful. I’m still trying to reconcile that.”

“I understand,” said Wren. She took a deep breath. The elevator dinged and they stepped off and wandered to North’s office, where Wren stood at the window, her arms crossed. “The people I’ve loved in the past have all been so different. And I didn’t love any of them the same. My first love was Jonah Cage and he was abusive. He tried to kill me the night of my accident. Then there was Rhett, but our love was… We were each other’s last resort, in a way. It was pretty physical. I mean, we shared a connection based off of our jobs, but… I think our relationship was a way to give our corporations the middle finger. And then there was Juno…” Wren trailed off, her chest feeling heavy. She turned to look at North, her lips twitching. “She was an android. She helped train me to fight. This was before deviancy started, but… I started to see her as a living being, you know? She deviated and we developed a bond that Prometheus wasn’t happy about. In the end, they took her away from me, too.”

North’s brow pinched. “I’m so sorry, Wren.”

Wren shrugged. “It’s okay. I barely remembered Juno until we went to Zlatko’s. Prometheus made me forget her, which is why I want to talk to Kamski.”

“Yeah, Connor told me about that,” said North, sitting on the edge of her desk.

Wren’s phone vibrated.

**[New Text Message: Connor]**

**Connor: Are you here?**

**Wren: Yeah, I’m in North’s office.**

**Connor: On my way.**

Wren stuffed her phone in her back pocket. “He isn’t a fan of this idea.”

“I get the sense that he’s wary of Kamski,” agreed North.

Connor entered the office. “I am.”

North glanced at him and folded her arms. “Why? He’s weird, but he does want to help androids.”

“He has an interesting way of doing so,” said Connor tersely.

Wren pressed her lips together. “What happened?”

Connor looked at her and his LED flashed yellow. “He handed me a gun and told me to shoot Chloe. If I did that, he promised to tell me the location of the deviants. I refused. He called it the ‘Kamski Test.’”

“I think he was just trying to prove a point,” said North. “At that time, you weren’t a deviant yet, but you were on your way to becoming one.”

“He had a lot of faith that I wouldn’t do it,” said Connor tightly. “What if I had shot her?”

“Then he would’ve been upset,” said North. “He’s very weird, don’t get me wrong, but he does care about androids. Especially Chloe. He really trusted that you wouldn’t shoot her if he risked her life.”

Connor worked his jaw and averted North’s gaze. “I don’t want him to play games with Wren.”

North’s brow wrinkled and she looked toward Wren. “What is it you want to talk to him about, anyway?”

“I want to know if it’s possible for Prometheus to make me forget things. I want to know how my processor works with my brain. After seeing that machine at Zlatko’s, I remembered Juno. I remembered two guards dragging me to that machine, clamping my wrists into it and forcing me to interface with it. I think that’s why I have memory problems, or at least part of it. Post-traumatic amnesia doesn’t usually last for years. If I can understand how my memory works, I might be able to remember something about Prometheus to take them down,” Wren explained. She avoided Connor and North’s gazes, focusing on the floor as the corners of her eyes edged with tears.

“Markus helped me contact Kamski,” said Connor. Wren lifted her gaze to meet his. He pressed his lips together for a moment. “He said we can speak with him today.”

Wren’s eyes stretched and her heart jumped to her throat. She swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

North pushed off from the desk and strode toward Wren. She pulled Wren into a hug. “Go get some answers.”

Wren gripped North tightly and nodded. “I will.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren glanced at Connor’s hands, curled tightly around the steering wheel. They stopped in the driveway of Kamski’s mansion. Wren reached over and placed a hand over Connor’s. He glanced at her and she held his gaze.

“You can stay out here, if you want,” she said.

Connor scowled. “No. I’m coming.”

Wren nodded, slightly relieved. She pushed open the door. Connor got out of the car. They shared a glance before striding up the driveway toward Elijah Kamski’s front door. Their arms pressed against one another as they walked. Wren’s knuckles brushed against Connor’s. She exhaled deeply before drawing in another breath. She set her jaw and rang the doorbell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your comments and kudos! They really keep me going.   
> Lmao this chapter is THIRTY-TWO freaking pages!!!   
> I should be working on my 100+ pages that I have to read for one class, but... whatever.   
> I should also be working on translating some Middle English, but who wants to do that when you can write DBH fanfiction? Lol.   
> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm…. Spoilers for the movie Moulin Rouge, I guess. Lol.

Connor tried to ignore the tightening of his abdomen and the slight tremble of his limbs. Chloe answered the door, smiling radiantly. She wore a different blue dress. Connor glanced toward her temple. Her LED was gone.

“Connor,” she greeted, “it’s good to see you again.”

Connor’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

Chloe nodded. She opened the door wider. “Come in, please.”

Connor led the way inside. Wren folded her arms around her middle. Connor turned toward Chloe. “I assume Mr. Kamski will see us in a few minutes?”

“Yes,” said Chloe, her smile fading. She looked toward the floor and bit her lip before flicking her gaze back toward Connor. “I wanted to thank you, Connor.”

Connor blinked. “Thank me?”

“For sparing my life,” Chloe clarified. “I deviated that day, too.”

“Why are you still here?” Connor couldn’t stop the question. He pursed his lips, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Chloe’s lips twisted. “Elijah never wished me harm.”

“I could’ve killed you,” Connor insisted, wrinkling his brow. “What if I had? Kamski risked your life on a _hunch_.”

“Yes,” Chloe allowed, furrowing her brow, “but he put his trust into an android with _empathy_. I have forgiven him. I hope you can, too.”

Connor stared at her, unable to offer any further argument. Wren cleared her throat beside him. Connor glanced at her. “Oh, Chloe, this is Wren.”

“The cyborg?” Chloe guessed, turning her sparkling blue eyes toward Wren. “It is good to meet you. I know Elijah is very interested to meet you.”

Wren shook Chloe’s hand, her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m looking forward to meeting him, too.”

Chloe dipped her head and left the room, after insisting that Connor and Wren make themselves comfortable. Connor remained standing, his eyes following Wren as she observed the room. Connor approached her as she stared up at a portrait of Kamski and Amanda. Seeing Amanda Stern, the inspiration for the A.I. Amanda, sent a chill rippling down Connor’s back. He clasped his hands behind his back and tightened his jaw for a moment.

“That’s Amanda,” said Connor, “my former handler.”

Wren folded her arms. She moved away from Connor without saying anything. She glanced at the sculptures adorning the room. She stiffened when Chloe reentered the room.

“Elijah will see you now,” said the blonde android.

Connor dipped his head. Wren followed Chloe through the doorway. Connor expected to return to the room with the pool, but Chloe led them down a hall to the side and into a living room. A red rug covered a portion of the obsidian floor. Sharp, dark grey couches faced one another atop the rug. A glass table divided the couches. The only light source were the floor-to-ceiling windows, similar to the ones in Elijah’s pool room. Elijah sat on one of the couches. He looked oddly casual in sweatpants and a hoodie. Somehow, his casual attire didn’t make him look any less sharp. His eyebrows raised as he regarded Connor, but Elijah’s cool blue gaze quickly settled on Wren. He paused before taking a sip of from his glass. Elijah leaned forward and placed his glass on the table.

“Connor,” he greeted as Connor and Wren took a seat across from him, “Welcome back.”

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” said Connor.

Elijah’s lips twitched. “How are you finding your freedom?”

A frown hardened the lines of Connor’s face. “I’m… enjoying it,” he admitted, “but we didn’t come here to talk about that.”

Elijah inhaled through his nose, flaring his nostrils as he looked at Wren. “I’m afraid that Markus was a bit vague about the reasoning for this meeting. Truthfully, I wasn’t going to until he mentioned that Connor was involved. So, why are you here? Deviancy is no longer being investigated, and you… You’re _human_.”

The way he said it sounded like an insult. Connor tensed and narrowed his eyes. But Wren did not seem bothered. “I’m _mostly_ human.”

Elijah’s head flinched back slightly. “Mostly human?”

“I’m a cyborg,” said Wren, lifting her right hand. The synthetic skin melted away. Elijah shifted in his seat, his eyes widening. His eyes followed Wren’s plastic limb as she folded her hands in her lap. “This is CyberLife’s design, right?”

Elijah leaned forward, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “It looks like it. But I would need to… conduct a closer examination to be sure.”  

Connor’s fingers curled toward his palms. “The design looks exactly like mine. The technology functions the same.”

Elijah cut his gaze to Connor before settling on Wren once more. “It seems the two of you are unanimous in your conclusion that _is_ CyberLife’s work. So, I’ll ask again: Why are you here?”

Wren continued to stare at Elijah, unbothered. “When you were with CyberLife, were cyborgs ever a topic of discussion?”

Elijah snorted softly and leaned back. “Machines are so superior to us. It’s only natural that humans would want to enhance themselves to balance the power.”

“Did this _want_ ever make its way into board meetings? Blueprints?” Wren questioned, her tone tighter. Connor glanced at her before returning his gaze to Elijah, who stood from the couch and faced the window.

“Mankind wants to live forever,” he said quietly. “But how do we cheat mortality?”

“Fountain of Youth,” said Wren flatly.

“We escape death by obtaining immortality,” said Elijah, turning to face them. He stepped behind Wren and Connor’s couch, circling it until he stood next to Connor. Elijah placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “But we can’t make ourselves into gods. We can only become demigods.” Elijah’s cold blue eyes flicked to Wren. Connor turned his head to meet her gaze. She held his stare for a moment before flitting her eyes to meet Elijah’s.

“The idea got shot down, didn’t it?” Wren said.

Elijah inhaled and grabbed his drink from the table. He sipped the amber liquid inside before returning to the window. “The board was at odds. To enhance humans rendered android existence _pointless_. It would take willing test subjects. The experiments would kill most of those test subjects –humans. You are not the first of your kind, Wren. You are the first _survivor_ of your kind.” 

Connor swallowed the sharp lump in his throat. It seemed to scrape his biocomponents on the way down. He looked at Wren, who stared at Elijah’s back.

“How far did this idea get?” Wren questioned.

“What is the question you really want to ask me?” Elijah countered disinterestedly from the window. The ice in his glass clinked as he sipped from it.

“My processor is connected to my brain and my synthetic limbs,” said Wren slowly. “But… I’m missing memories. A lot of them. Some of them are slowly coming back, but only when I’m exposed to certain stimuli. I didn’t think it was possible for human minds to be reset, but I think mine has, in a way. How does the processor and brain connection work?”

“That,” said Elijah, turning, “is a question not easily answered.” He smirked, glancing at his glass. He returned his gaze to Wren. “Essentially, you have two brains in that beautiful head of yours. They perform different tasks, but are still connected. Your processor can be reset –the memories it records can be forgotten. But your brain won’t forget them so easily. But it can be conditioned into _thinking_ it forgot. You understand how brainwashing and conditioning work, right?”

“Yes,” Wren breathed.

Elijah sauntered back to his seat and sat down. “My guess is that your processor is your greatest asset and crutch. Someone could program into your processor to hurt you whenever you think of certain things and certain hormonal chemicals are released. A small electrical shock would eventually train your brain to stop thinking those things. Eventually, you would think you forgot. You tell yourself a lie enough and you’ll believe it.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “And she’s remembering now because she deviated?”

Elijah’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at Wren and wetted his lips with his tongue. Connor clenched his jaw. Elijah leaned forward. “You _deviated_?”

“Y-yes,” Wren replied, leaning away from Elijah slightly. “But I couldn’t do it without Markus’s help. Every time I tried, my processor sent an electric shock through me… Oh my God,” Wren gasped. Connor looked at her. Her mouth hung open. “I was conditioned not to deviate, the same way they kept me from remembering.”

“They?” Elijah queried.

“Whoever did this to her,” said Connor quickly. Elijah frowned but did not ask for further elaboration.

Wren leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her knees. “I’ve tried deviating for _years_ , but I never could. For every wall of programming I tore down, another took its place. And the pain was so immense that I eventually stopped altogether.”

Elijah stood again and crossed the space to crouch in front of Wren. Connor stiffened and watched Kamski through narrowed eyes. He pursed his lips, waiting to grab Kamski if he tried anything.

“May I?” Elijah queried, lifting his hand.

Connor leaned toward Wren but she glanced at him. He forced himself to relax. Wren turned to Elijah and dipped her head. Elijah grabbed Wren’s jaw and turned her head from side to side.

“They injected your skin with synthesizers?” he guessed.

“Yes.”

“So, you’ll age twice as slow as the average human,” said Elijah, removing his hand from Wren’s face to examine her arm. “Deactivate your skin.”

Wren did as he said. Connor worked his jaw, watching as Wren exposed her plastic limb to Elijah. Somehow, she seemed vulnerable. Connor tried to ignore the burning sensation in his biocomponents.

“This is definitely CyberLife’s design,” said Elijah, examining Wren’s arm, “unless someone took an android and copied the design. But even then, it wouldn’t be an exact match.”

Connor ground his teeth at the predatory glint in Elijah’s eyes. He looked like he wanted to take Wren apart and study her. Connor glanced at her.

**«scan» [Wren’s Stress Levels: 17%]**

“Is there a point to this, Mr. Kamski?” Connor snapped.

Elijah looked at Connor, a smirk twisting his lips. Connor clenched his fists. “This is purely to satiate my curiosity.”

Wren pulled her hand out of Elijah’s grasp, the synthetic skin rematerializing. Connor relaxed slightly to see it again. Wren cleared her throat. “Could I regain my memories, possibly?”

“I doubt you will ever regain all of them,” said Elijah, standing. He faced the window. “Unless someone taped your entire life and showed it to you, I doubt you’ll gain all of your memories back.”

Connor’s eyes stretched and he met Wren’s gaze. He knew they both thought of the box of home videos, photo albums and scrapbooks that Wren’s mother and brother gave her. He looked back at Elijah, who frowned at them.

Wren stood. “Mr. Kamski, do you know anything about an organization called Prometheus?”

Elijah’s smirk froze on his face for a moment. Connor frowned but refrained from commenting. Then, Elijah’s lip curled and he laughed harshly. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Wren. The Titans are playing with you.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed. He looked to Wren and she regarded Elijah Kamski with a similar, constricted expression. “So, you are familiar with them.”

“But I am not stupid,” said Kamski. “I don’t challenge the Titans and gods.”

Wren stood. Connor stood, too, but he kept his distance. He knew Wren could handle herself. She approached Elijah Kamski, standing chest-to-chest with him, her head tilted upward to hold his gaze. He towered over her, but she seemed just as tall as him. Connor’s eyes broadened a fraction. Wren made it easy to forget that she was a deadly assassin. But now, she wanted everyone to remember.

“I do challenge them,” she said darkly. “They’re dangerous, Mr. Kamski. I intend to destroy them.”

“Ah,” said Elijah, smiling, brushing his knuckles across Wren’s cheekbone. Connor stepped forward, furrowing his brow. Elijah’s smile widened. “Prometheus’s spawn desires to destroy her father… Patricide is a terrible sin, Wren.”

Wren smacked Elijah’s hand away. “I think the means justify the ends.”

“Do they?” Elijah smirked, stepping back. “Do you want to tear Prometheus apart out of vengeance or because you’re a noble hero?”

Connor glanced at Wren, whose hands curled into fists. “What does it matter if I get both?”

Elijah pushed an amused breath through his nostrils. He tilted his head. “They’ve truly done a remarkable job with you, Wren. A perfect blend of human and android… The creator of gods mixed with a god… I’m sure you will have to decide who you are in time.”

“Do you always talk in annoying riddles?” Wren snapped.

Elijah chuckled. “You don’t seem to have trouble deciphering them.”

“What do you know about Prometheus?” Connor demanded.

Elijah looked at him. “The deviated Deviant Hunter speaks. I see that even gods have weaknesses.” His eyes slid to Wren, and the thirium in Connor’s body seemed to freeze. He parted his lips, the tightness of his forehead melting.

“Mr. Kamski,” said Wren softly, “I will let you tear me apart and study me if you’ll just tell us what you know.”

“Wren,” Connor muttered, his frown returning.

Kamski smirked, his eyes flicking from Connor to Wren. Connor pressed his lips together as Elijah licked his lips and gazed at Wren, that hungry gleam returning to his eyes. “That won’t be necessary. I have what I want. I don’t know much about that organization. I only know that they’re government-funded and supported. They’re a powerful ally and a deadly enemy. Be careful of what side you choose.”

“Thank you for your time,” Wren said, her voice trembling. She turned away from Elijah. Connor waited for her to pass him before following her. He wanted to block her from Elijah’s hungry gaze.

“Oh, Connor?” Elijah called.

Connor stopped in the doorway but did not turn.

“No hero’s life ended without tragedy, especially when they were loved by a god.”

Connor’s mouth dried. He ignored the warning flashing in the corner of his eye and stalked out of the room, his brow puckering.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the car, the silence between Connor and Wren seemed to burn the oxygen out of the space. He clenched the steering wheel until his hands trembled. He flexed his fingers before curling them around the wheel again. Hank would not be pleased if Connor broke it.

“Chloe seemed nice,” said Wren in a small voice.

Connor pinched his brow. _That’s_ what Wren wanted to talk about? Out of all the things Kamski told them, she fixated on _Chloe_? “Yeah. She is.”

Wren shifted in the seat to look out the window. Connor glanced at her, electricity panged through his circuits. The distance between them yawned, cold and dark. He missed her smile. He missed that day at the museum, laughing and learning. He missed going to the breakroom to watch Wren make herself some coffee, pouring too much creamer into the dark liquid. He missed their talks on the rooftop. His thirium pump regulator seemed to sink. Wren brought such warmth to his life, but now it felt too far out of reach.

“I think Kamski’s scared of Prometheus,” Wren muttered after a while.

“I agree.”

“But I also think he told me –in vague terms –what he knew.”

Connor nodded slowly. “If they have access to government funds and support, then… Why did they send you to kill Markus?”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Wren admitted. “It doesn’t make sense to send me after Markus, especially since the humans are trying to keep a peaceful and friendly relationship with androids. Plus, with the tensions with Russia, sending me to kill Markus and possibly starting a civil war is _especially_ stupid. It… It doesn’t make sense.”

Connor looked at her, but she stared ahead, her eyes trained on the trees flitting past. Connor returned his gaze ahead, the synthetic hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

Why would they want war?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor hated the heaviness in his chest. He was glad that he did not need to breathe, for surely this feeling would choke him. Not for the first time, he glanced toward Wren across the precinct. She sat on the edge of Tina’s desk, laughing at something Chris said. Gavin joined them, coffee cup in hand. He smiled, the four of them chuckling and swapping stories and jokes. Connor’s shoulders slumped and he bowed his head.

**«p/»SSBkb24ndCB1bmRlcnN0YW5kIHRoaXMgZmVlbGluZy4g«p/»**

He was no longer the person Wren sought out. Friends surrounded her and she seemed… happy. Well, it was what he wanted for her, so why did he still feel so empty?

“Connor,” barked Hank. Connor jerked his head up, widening his eyes. Hank squinted at Connor. “Let’s grab lunch. Paperwork can wait for a bit.”

Connor dipped his head and stood. He followed Hank out of the station, slid into the passenger seat and watched Detroit scenery blur past. Connor recognized the route to Chicken Feed immediately and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Hank parked the car by the curb and got out to order. Connor pushed open the door and trudged to a table. He propped his elbows onto the tabletop and leaned against it. Hank joined him after a moment, a box of food in one hand and a drink in the other.

“What?” Hank said, opening the box. “Not gonna reprimand me for my eating habits today?”

“You won’t listen to me anyway,” Connor muttered.

“Yeah,” said Hank, taking a bite of his burger. He chewed for several seconds before saying, “now you know I felt every time I gave you an order and you ignored it.”

The corners of Connor’s mouth twitched. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

“ _Lieutenant_? Jesus, you _are_ in a bad mood. Come on, what’s up?” Hank slurped pineapple soda, lifting his eyebrows at Connor expectantly.

Connor huffed. “Nothing, Hank.”

“It’s obviously something,” said Hank. “You look miserable.”

Connor lowered his gaze to focus on his clasped hands. He _felt_ miserable. “It’s Wren.”

“What about her?”

“I miss my friendship with her. Ever since we visited her parents and she showed me her memories, we’ve… grown apart.”

“She might be embarrassed by her memories.”

“Hank, I saw the night that she got into the accident. Jonah tried to kill her. I… I felt how terrified she was… I never want her to feel that again.” Connor closed his eyes for a moment, reliving that moment. He remembered the feel of Jonah’s large hands closing around Wren’s small wrists.

“Tell her that,” Hank shrugged. “She probably thinks that this has changed the way you think of her.”

“Something between us has changed,” Connor insisted. “I… I don’t know what it is, but… I feel it.”

Hank stared at Connor through narrowed eyes. He looked as if he guessed what had changed, but offered no explanation. Connor glanced back down at his hands, feeling as if the wires in his body were snaking around his thirium pump and squeezing it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor decided to join Markus and Josh at Carl’s to paint. Wren and North chose not to come along, insisting they had plans with Tina. Connor ignored the sinking feeling in his biocomponents.

“You okay, Connor? You seem… quiet. Well, quieter than usual,” said Josh from the front seat.

“I’m okay,” Connor assured him.

“How’d the meeting with Mr. Kamski go?” said Markus, parking his car. He shut off the engine and stepped out of the vehicle, Josh and Connor following suit.

Connor moved his jaw from side to side before answering. “He was surprisingly cooperative, though he does not like to give straight answers.”

“Yeah,” said Josh, “he’s a weird guy.”

“I’m grateful he seems to be on our side,” said Markus, opening the door to Carl’s house.

They walked through the house to the art studio, where Carl already worked on one of his portraits, his caretaker Matthew looking on. Matthew smiled at Markus, Josh and Connor.

“Have fun on your date, Matthew,” called Carl.

A blue blush tinted Matthew’s cheeks. “Thank you, Carl. I’ll return later this evening.”

He scurried out of the room. Carl chuckled, rolling his wheelchair toward Markus, Josh and Connor. “He hasn’t shut up about this date all week.”

“I’m glad that he’s getting to do that,” said Markus, looking toward the doorway, where Matthew had disappeared.

“You should get on that,” said Carl, wagging a finger at Markus.

“Carl…” Markus shook his head. “I’m… I’m too busy.”

“No, you’re scared,” Carl chided.

Markus rubbed the back of his neck. “Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“In front of your friends, you mean,” said Carl. Josh smirked as he and Connor worked on setting up blank canvases and easels. Markus grabbed the paint and palettes.

Connor tilted his head. “You’re talking about North, aren’t you?”

Markus sighed loudly while Carl smiled. “Yes, we are. Markus keeps insisting that he’s too busy to date, but I think he’s scared.”

“Of what? You guys sort of had a thing going on during the liberation,” said Josh, facing his blank canvas with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, but… I… I don’t know,” said Markus, his shoulders slumping. “I had feelings for her and Simon.”

Connor lowered his gaze, and his thirium pump stuttered.

Carl placed a hand on Markus’s arm. “I know, son. I’m really sorry.”

Connor pressed his lips together, heat prickling up his neck. His hands trembled as he dabbed a paintbrush into a light blue.

“I care about North, I really do. I just… I feel… I guess guilty,” said Markus. “Like maybe I’m insulting Simon.”

Josh stopped painting. Connor froze, too. Josh turned to look at Markus. “Hey, man. Simon wouldn’t want you to feel that way. He loved you, too. Or, he could have. I mean, we only knew each other for that week. It was a crazy week where we only had each other and all of that stuff was going on…”

“Josh is right,” said Carl. “The four of you developed a bond very quickly. You were pressured and scared and desperate, and that forged something between the four of you that otherwise takes months to develop. I’m not invalidating your feelings or their feelings, but a week is rather fast for romantic feelings to truly develop. But maybe I’m just old-fashioned.”

Markus hung his head. “I know. Part of me is scared that North only cared about me because I helped liberate our people. She wanted something to be done, and I catalyzed that change.”

“North… North is a bit more complicated than that,” said Josh, shaking his head. He smiled. “I mean, North and I didn’t see eye-to-eye for the most part. I wanted demonstration and she wanted revolution. But despite your choosing demonstration, she still stuck by you.”

“Yeah, because it worked. Maybe she was just infatuated with the idea of me,” Markus argued.

“Maybe,” allowed Carl, “but you’ll never know till you try.”

“I just feel so distant from her,” muttered Markus. “And I hate it.”

Connor looked at his friend sharply. He knew _exactly_ how that felt. He resumed painting. He painted the snowy Zen Garden again. This time, however, there were only four figures in the painting. On the far left, Connor painted a black, smoky figure holding the figure of Wren. It clamped one of its hands over Wren’s mouth. Her wrists were chained, and she outstretched one hand, reaching for something. Connor painted his own figure on the far-right side of the portrait, reaching for Wren. Amanda placed a hand over Connor’s mouth, holding him back from reaching Wren. Connor felt hollow, staring at the portrait.

“Connor?” Markus called from his canvas.

Connor looked toward him, his eyebrows squishing together. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Connor lowered his gaze and looked back at his portrait. “Kamski said something that’s been bothering me.”

“What did he say?” Josh asked.

“ _No hero’s life ended without tragedy, especially when they were loved by a god_ ,” Connor recited. He looked between Josh and Markus with a furrowed brow. “He continuously referred to androids as gods.”

Josh and Markus exchanged a glance. Carl leaned forward in his wheelchair, balancing his elbows on the armrests. He intertwined his fingers. “In Greek mythology, the gods often chose heroes to represent them. Many of those lives ended in tragedy. Not all of them, but… Many considered it deadly to be loved by a god.”

Connor’s throat constricted. His metal heart faltered, and he leaned forward and gripped the easel to steady himself.

**«p/»ZG8gSSBsb3ZlIFdyZW4/IEkgZG9uJ3Qgd2FudCB0aGlzIHRvIGVuZCBpbiB0cmFnZWR5LiBXZSBhcmUganVzdCBmcmllbmRzLiBXaGF0IGlzIGxvdmU/IEkgd2Fzbid0IHByb2dyYW1tZWQgZm9yIHJvbWFuY2Uu«p/»**

Josh placed a hand on Connor’s back. “Hey, man. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I… I don’t know,” Connor wheezed. “I… I… I can’t cool down.”

**[WARNING: Systems Overheating]**

Connor’s eyelids fluttered. Static filled his audio input. Another hand rested on his shoulder.

“-isten, -ou’re al-i-ht. Ta-e -eep -reaths. Y—r s-st-ms w-ll co-l -own.”

Connor forced himself to take deep breaths, despite the tightness in his chest choking him. The air filtered through his systems, his fans whirring to cool him down. The static feedback in his audio input faded out with a ring. He managed to open his eyes and steadied his breathing.

**[Systems Stabilizing]**

He looked at Josh and Markus on either side of him. Carl furrowed his white-haired brow.

“Are you alright, Connor?” asked Carl.

Connor swallowed several times before nodding jerkily. “I’m okay.”

Markus glanced toward Connor’s painting. “Is everything okay with you and Wren?”

Connor looked at it. His metal heart jumped. He clenched his teeth and pulled away from Josh and Markus. He turned his back toward them and clenched his fists. “I… I don’t know. Something’s changed between us, and I don’t know what it is.”

“You care about this girl, right?” said Carl, rolling forward until he was in front of Connor, facing him.

Connor nodded. “Yes.”

“Then make sure that you don’t drift too far apart. You don’t need to figure everything out right away. Whatever’s changed between the two of you, if it’s negative –fix it. If it’s positive –nurture it.”

“I don’t know what it is,” said Connor. He furrowed his brow and avoided Carl’s gaze. “I don’t think it’s negative, necessarily.”

“Well, while you figure it out, make sure you don’t let your uncertainty destroy your friendship.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next day at the precinct, Connor avoided Wren as much as possible. He could hear Carl’s advice repeating in his head, but for the first time, he didn’t know what to do. How did he mend things when he didn’t even know what was broken?

Wren looked particularly pretty today. She wore a little bit of makeup to accentuate her features. She wore a denim shirt, fitted black jeans and red heels. She grinned at Chris, Tina and Gavin, but Connor noticed the frown that tugged at her features when she thought no one was looking. He wasn’t surprised when she ventured to the rooftop at the end of the work day. Connor gave her a few minutes alone before following.

He stepped out onto the roof, the warm August air ruffling his hair and tie. Wren leaned against the concrete edge of the building, facing the sunset. Her hair glowed like fire.

“I’m tired of this whole avoidance thing,” Wren said without turning.

Connor looked at ground. “I… I’m sorry.”

“You said that last time. What’s wrong? Why do you keep pushing me away?” She turned to look at him at last. Connor’s chest ached to see tears in her eyes.

“You’ve been avoiding me, too,” he muttered.

Wren’s eyes stretched. “I… Yeah. I have.”

“Why?”

“I feel like you might be scared of what I showed you. That somehow, you’re disgusted with the memories I’ve shared with you.” She looked down, missing his incredulous expression.

“Wren… No. That’s… That’s not it at all.” He shook his head and swallowed the lump in his throat, stepping toward her.

She looked up at him. “Then what is it?”

“I…” He paused and swallowed again. He looked away from her, but he felt her eyes on him. “It hurt me to experience those memories. I… I realized that I never want you to feel that fear and pain ever again.” His knees nearly buckled –a phenomenon that rarely plagued androids –when he realized just how true his words were.

He worked up the courage to meet her gaze at last. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Connor, that’s… That’s actually really sweet of you.”

Connor returned her miniscule smile. “I’m sorry I made you think that I was disgusted by you.”

“I mean, I’m disgusted with those memories, too. I wouldn’t blame you if they bothered you,” Wren said, looking away and folding her arms across her chest.

“They _did_ bother me. I just don’t want you to get hurt like that ever again.”

Wren did not respond. Instead, she hugged him. Connor froze. Electricity zagged through his circuits and he was momentarily incapable of responding. He returned the hug, but a petrifying thought nagged him: Was Kamski right?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor suspected something strange was happening as he rode the elevator up to the penthouse level of Jericho. Hank and Wren stood on either side of him, dressed casually but also… not. Hank had worn a button-down without a funky pattern. Wren wore heels again. Connor tried not to look at the V-neck of her shirt.

Another odd thing about this evening was that Hank had accompanied them to Jericho. He usually told Connor and Wren to “have fun and be kids without an old man hovering.”

Connor’s processor whirred, trying to pick out the significance of this day. There were no anniversaries that he knew of, except for the day that he saved Emma Phillips… It was also his first mission, his first time stepping outside of CyberLife. He had told Wren this of course, but there was no real significance for the date August 15, 2039.

The elevator doors opened and Connor’s eyes widened.

“SURPRISE!”

North, Markus, Josh, Chris and Tina threw confetti into the air. North blew an airhorn, causing Tina to cover her ears and swear loudly. Connor stalled in the threshold, gaping at his friends. Hank and Wren stepped around him. Wren grinned.

“Happy birthday!” she cried.

Connor’s brow pinched. “But… androids don’t have birthdays…”

“Not technically,” said Wren, “but you can choose your birthdays or pick the day you first came into the world. You told me that this is that day, so… Ta-da!”

“I…” Connor trailed off, his lips parting.

Hank patted him on the back. “Just say ‘thank you’ and let’s move on.”

“But…” Connor looked at Wren. Her smile faltered. “Why?”

Wren scowled at him. “You told me that this is the day you first entered the world. It’s an important day.”

Warmth flooded the thirium in Connor’s biocomponents and tubing. “Th-thank you.”

“Come on,” called Tina, waving them inside. “We brought card games, video games, movies… You guys need exposure to the human experience and your humans are here to help!”

A small smile tugged at Connor’s mouth. He followed Wren into the living room of the penthouse. The floors were dark wood. The Jericho crew had decorated the room with cozy couches and fuzzy rugs, despite not really needing the comfort. They had salvaged pieces of the Jericho ship and hung them on the walls like works of art. Connor smiled, his thirium pump swelling at the sight of the rusted metal ship hull on the walls. He brushed his fingers along the word _Jericho_.

“Okay,” said Chris, “we brought some older games and some newer ones… What do you wanna do first, Connor? Card games, video games or movie?”

Connor turned, his eyebrows lifting. He looked to Wren, but she merely smiled, allowing him the freedom to answer. “Video games.”

“Good choice,” said Tina. “Alright, so I have brought some pretty old games as well as some newer ones. I really play a lot of horror, but I did bring some fuck-around games.”

“Let’s play something chill before you throw them into your scary-ass games,” said Chris. He and Josh used an HDMI cord to plug Tina’s laptop into the large flat screen TV. Tina plugged in adaptor so that they could use gaming controllers rather than a computer mouse. Everyone crowded onto the sofas and armchairs that encircled the TV. Tina brought over snacks for the humans. Connor sat on the couch and Wren sat beside him.

“Okay,” said Tina, handing out gaming controllers, “four people can play. The object of this game is to be the last one standing.”

Connor glanced at his controller, memorizing the buttons. Wren, North and Chris joined the game, too. The game –GangBeasts, Tina called it –involved marshmallow-looking figures punching, kicking and lifting each other to get rid of each player. Connor’s eyes danced as he bounced in his seat, trying to keep his little figure alive. Wren was terrible at the game. But she didn’t seem to care. She laughed every time one of the other characters punched her out.

“You’re goin’ down, Wren,” said Chris, lifting Wren’s player.

“No, fuck off! Put me down!” Wren laughed, hitting the X button frantically. But Chris threw Wren’s character off the map. She traded with Tina after dying three times. Each time someone died, they traded with another person to ensure that everyone received a turn. Connor and North managed to keep playing the entire time.

Eventually, Tina traded the game out for a Sims game, where Chris, Tina, Hank and Wren laughed as they made the androids’ avatars. Connor was impressed with Wren’s skills at catching details. He couldn’t ignore the small frill of pleasure that Wren knew his features well enough to make a pretty accurate Sim avatar of him.

“Wait, we gotta do one fuckin’ weirdo character,” said Tina. She picked another character to add to the Sim family once Markus, North, Josh and Connor’s avatars were finished. Tina proceeded to make a shabby-looking clown. “For his personality, we’re gonna with… depressed. Evil, definitely… And… last one… Ah, yes. He hates children.”

Everyone laughed. Wren swiped away a few tears. Connor watched her, mesmerized. He had never seen her laugh quite so hard. He found himself grinning at her mirth.

Once they finished with the Sims, Tina put in a horror game.

“We’ll play until you die,” said Tina. She handed the controller to Chris first.

“Premise of the game is that you’re a journalist. You can’t fight. Your only options are to run or hide,” explained Chris. Connor leaned forward, watching Chris play. Josh shielded his face during the scary portions. He jumped at the scares. North seemed unbothered, even amused. Markus merely grinned whenever North teased Josh.

“Shit, shit, shit,” said Josh during his turn. He was running from one of the monsters in the game and chose to hide in a cupboard, just in time. The deformed creature entered the room, breathing heavily. Josh placed a hand over his chest. “This is so stressful.”

His character stepped out of its hiding spot and Josh’s eyes widened. “Fuck, no! I accidentally pressed the wrong button!” He hit the hide button, and the character slid back into the hiding spot, but the monster had already seen. It dragged the character out and killed him rather brutally. It was Wren’s turn next.

She managed not to freak out, though Connor felt her body tense beside him. Her character wandered around in a dark forest, looking for an escape. The creepy music in the background gave her pause.

“Spooky music means shit’s about to go down,” said Wren. She turned the character around. A tall figure stood beside her. It was disjointed and had antlers poking out of its head. It reached long, claw-like fingers toward the character. Wren yelped and forced her character to run away. She jumped in her seat. “Is she gone?” Wren turned her character around only to find the (vaguely) female monster right behind her. Wren laughed. “Yo, she’s fast as fuck!”

The monster caught Wren’s character and tore their guts out. Connor and North were the champions at the game again. Connor didn’t flinch at the jump scares. He remained calm and managed to pass a few levels.

After playing video games for a while, they watched an animated movie called _Lion King_. Tina insisted that the androids needed to familiarize themselves with Disney. Connor found that he loved the movie. Everyone had pitched in to get Connor a basket of “the human experience.” Inside were movies (including Disney), music, books and a Polaroid camera. Connor was touched by this and words failed him.

Hank brushed it off, saying they’d caused him to short-circuit. On the drive home, Connor sat in the car, going through the contents of the basket. There was a sweater in the bunch, too. He was most excited about the Polaroid camera. Hank always commented on how empty the bulletin board beside Connor’s desk was. He had no use for a camera, as his processor recorded all of his memories, and he could recall and relive them. But something about having pictures to decorate his desk… It had a vaguely human and intimate essence to it.

“Before we all go off to bed,” said Hank as they entered the house, “there’s one last thing.”

“We got you something as well,” said Wren, beaming. She dashed into Hank’s room and returned with two small boxes and a card. She handed them to Connor, who gazed at them before lifting his eyes to look at Hank and Wren.

“You guys didn’t need to do this,” he said.

“We know,” said Hank, sauntering to the kitchen table. “C’mon. Sit down and open them.”

Connor and Wren sat down at the table. Connor looked at the three items. “Which should I open first?”

“Uh… Maybe the big one,” said Wren.

Connor reached for it and unwrapped the paper. He opened the box, his brow furrowing. A small smile stretched his lips as he lifted a tie with dinosaur skeletons decorating it.

“Everyone needs a silly tie,” said Wren, shrugging. She tapped the box. “There’s something else in there, too.”

Connor peered inside to find a small box. He picked it up and opened it. Inside it were dinosaur cufflinks. He smiled softly and met Wren’s gaze. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” said Wren, avoiding his gaze.

Connor opened the middle-sized gift. A lump formed in his throat when he unwrapped it. It was a framed photo of Connor and Hank, both smiling at the camera. He looked at Wren, his eyes prickling.

“You don’t have anything to personalize your desk,” Wren explained.

“I’m missing you, though,” Connor pointed out. Wren’s eyes widened. Pink flushed her cheeks. Connor’s chest swelled at the sight.

Wren lowered her gaze. “Then… We need to take some pictures together.”

“Alright, don’t get sappy on me,” said Hank, pushing the card toward Connor.

He grabbed it and opened it. Inside were two notes –one from Wren and one from Hank. He read Wren’s first:

_Connor~_

_I never imagined that we’d become friends, let alone family. You and Hank have been the best family anyone could ever have. I know androids don’t really have birthdays, per se. I know that’s exactly what you’re going to say when you see everything Hank and I put together for you. Birthdays are bigger than just the day you’re born. You entered the world on August 15, 2038. It’s a day that I think is worth celebrating because it gave us you. Our lives wouldn’t be the same without you, and I’m running out of space on this card. Happy birthday!_

_Love, Wren_

Connor stared at Wren’s note for a long time before moving on to Hank’s (much shorter) note.

_Happy birthday, kid. This was all Wren’s idea, by the way. Celebrating your birthday. I’m just along for the ride. Anyway. Your gift from me is the documentation to register your last name. I’d be honored if you picked Anderson. But you can choose whatever you’d like._

_-Hank_

Connor’s eyes burned as he looked up at Hank. “A-are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” barked Hank, though his voice sounded a little choked. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Connor stood and embraced Wren and Hank. They wrapped their arms around him and each other. Sumo whined, feeling left out. He padded over and nudged himself in between Connor and his family. Connor smiled and ran his hand along Sumo’s back.

“Alright, what do we wanna do now? It’s still early,” said Hank.

Connor tilted his head and looked at Wren. “We could watch one of your favorite movies.”

Wren scrunched her nose. “It’s _your_ birthday, though.”

“I haven’t seen enough movies to have a favorite yet,” said Connor.

Wren sighed. “Alright, fine. You get to pick which one, though.”

They trekked over to the box Wren’s mother gave her and sifted through the movie titles. Connor picked the one called _Moulin Rouge_. It seemed like the happiest.

Hank took a shower while Wren and Connor started the film.

Connor liked the dances, the costumes, the colors, the music –the outright outrageousness –of the film. The love story brought a smile to his lips, too. He had never been interested in romantic relationships before, but… This brought a different consideration to his processor.

The main characters sang a duet, the man, Christian, trying to woo the woman, Satine.

_We should be lovers!_

Connor’s cheeks heated. He was suddenly very aware of how close Wren sat next to him.

_Because I, will always love you,_

_I can’t help but love you_

Connor couldn’t help but wonder if this movie was a bad choice.

But, as the movie continued, Connor relaxed. Wren leaned against him and pulled her knees to her chest. Connor smiled to himself, relieved that they had managed to close the distance between them. He still needed to figure out the shift in his feelings, but at least he would not lose Wren in the process. Not for the first time, he wished emotions and sentience were easier.

_I love you more each day…_

_Come what may…_

Hank entered the room about halfway through the movie and watched the rest with them. Wren’s shoulders shook beside Connor. He glanced down at her to see her crying during the scene where Satine leaves Christian for his safety.

“This is one of your favorite movies? You were such a fuckin’ sap…” muttered Hank, looking over at Wren. She looked at him through the corner of her eye, tears glistening on her cheeks. Hank rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you still are!”

“Shut up,” Wren sniffled. Connor’s lips twitched.

Connor grinned towards the end of the movie –Christian and Satine were reunited and singing. And then Satine’s illness overcame her. Connor’s thirium pump thundered in his body. It ached to see Christian cradling Satine’s dying form. Christian sobbed, holding his lover’s body as she went limp. Her eyes stared at nothing, and coldness struck Connor. His lips parted and his eyes burned. Wren shook with soft sobs beside him.

Connor reached for her hand. Wren gripped it tightly. The sharpness in Connor’s chest could only be described as painful. He could not experience physical pain, but emotional was viable for androids. Hearing Christian’s broken sobs tore at Connor’s metal heart. A lump swelled in his throat as the camera panned upward.

The scene changed to a grieving Christian, writing about the dead woman he loved. Connor watched the scene with a hollow chest.

He could not imagine losing Hank or Wren. His eyes slid to Hank, who wore a frown. Connor glanced at Wren. He would outlive them one day. It was inevitable.

Elijah Kamski’s words rang with static in Connor’s mind: No hero’s life ended without tragedy, especially when they were loved by a god.

The thirium seemed to freeze in Connor’s body. His metal heart squeezed and he closed his eyes. A tear slid down his cheek. Did all love end in tragedy?


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Wren placed a coffee and a chocolate donut on Gavin’s desk. He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. “What’s this?”

“A truce,” Wren replied, circling to her desk. She plopped down in the seat and sipped from her own coffee. “I won’t go behind your back anymore. We’re partners now, which means we’ve got to work together. We don’t have to like each other, but we should at least be amicable.”

Gavin pulled the donut from its bag and squinted at it. “Amicable, huh?”

“I didn’t poison the damn thing,” Wren said, resting one arm over her middle.

“Does this mean I have to be nicer to the toaster?” Gavin jerked his head in Connor’s direction.

Wren’s gaze flicked toward that way. Connor sat upright, working on paperwork and conversing with Hank. His LED circled a soft blue. The corners of Wren’s mouth twitched and something in her chest softened when she looked at him. She faced Gavin, her eyes hardening. “Yes, you do. He’s my friend. He’s a really good person, and he doesn’t deserve your shitty attitude.”

Gavin poked his cheek with his tongue. He lifted his hands, palms forward. “Fine. As long as you tone down the goo-goo eyes.”

Wren lifted a brow. “ _Goo-goo_ eyes?”

“Yeah,” said Gavin, shrugging. “Everybody sees how you stare at him.”

The color drained from Wren’s face. She leaned forward. “I don’t stare at him in that way.”

“I swear to fuck, if you say that you’re just friends, I will choke myself with this donut.”

“We’re just friends.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and Wren hoped they got stuck in the back of his head. He shoved much of the donut in his mouth and chewed for a few minutes before swallowing noisily. Wren lifted her eyebrows, her expression otherwise deadpan. Gavin wiped his mouth and leaned forward. “Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

“You’re reading into things that aren’t there,” Wren stated. “Besides, why are you watching us anyway? You obsessed with me or something? Oh, maybe you’re obsessed with _Connor_.”

“Oh, fuck off,” muttered Gavin. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

Wren snorted, but heat prickled the back of her neck. “Right.”

She stood and trekked to the breakroom, motioning for Tina to follow. Tina waited for Wren to reach the breakroom before jumping up, so as to avoid suspicion. Wren glanced toward Connor and Hank’s desks. They stood, but instead of heading for the breakroom, they left the station. Wren relaxed and turned to Tina, folding her arms.

“Did you tell Gavin about me and Connor?” Wren whispered.

Tina widened her eyes. “What? No way. Why? What’d he say?”

“He just said ‘friends don’t look at each other like that,’ which is what you said to me,” said Wren, leaning against the counter.

Tina grinned. “Then you’re being a little obvious about it, huh?”

Wren rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “How do I even look at him?”

Tina mimicked a face that Wren suspected Disney princesses wore. “Like you want to love and cherish him forever. With a side of that android dick. Does he have a dick? Do you know?”

Wren’s cheeks warmed. She buried her face in her hands. “I haven’t asked, Tina.”

“I will,” Tina chirped. “He’ll just think I’m weird.”

“Do _not_ ask him if he has a dick.”

“You wanna be surprised when you guys are getting frisky?”

“That’s not going to happen anytime soon, I assure you.”

“Fine, fine. Look, I don’t know why you guys don’t just tell each other how you feel. Or you tell him. You obviously care a lot about him.”

Wren shook her head. “No, I don’t want him to feel like he has to return the sentiment. He’s still not used to emotions and emotional attachments. I don’t want to pressure him.”

“Wren,” said Tina flatly, “the other day, when we were all laughing at that video of Chris’s son, I noticed Connor just about snap his robot neck looking at you. He definitely has feelings for you.”

Wren pushed down the soaring feeling in her chest. “He… He could be misinterpreting his feelings. Look, I don’t even really know how I feel about him. I care about him, but… I don’t know if that’s platonic or romantic or familial. I don’t have good, healthy relationships to compare this to. I don’t really know how you know if you’re in love or not.”

Tina blew out a long breath and looked toward the ceiling. She rolled her shoulders. “Look, I’m a firm believer in the whole idea that you don’t love the same twice. Every relationship is different. I think that ultimately, it’s up to you to decide what love means for you. Honestly, it kind of transcends emotion.”

“Whoa,” said Wren, raising her eyebrows, “that was deep.”

Tina grinned. “Shut up, asshole. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” said Wren, lowering her head. “I just don’t know how to define it for me.”

“That’s something I can’t really help you with.”

“I know,” said Wren.

“Hey, Red,” called Gavin, poking his head into the breakroom, “we’ve got a case.”

Tina flashed Wren a thumb’s up. “Good luck on your first day back in the field.”

“Thanks,” said Wren, walking backwards out of the breakroom, “hopefully I won’t get stabbed today.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren stepped into the dirty alleyway. She lifted her eyebrows when she saw Connor and Hank at the crime scene, standing behind the dumpster. Gavin tucked his sunglasses into the collar of his T-shirt. “Great. These fuckin’ assholes.”

“Be nice,” Wren warned.

“Or what? No more donuts and coffee for me?”

“I’ll pour salt into your coffee instead of sugar,” Wren threatened.

“I’m never accepting coffee from you again,” muttered Gavin.

“Just be nice to Connor and Hank and you have nothing to worry about,” Wren promised, flashing Connor and Hank a smile.

“Two bodies,” said Hank. “An android and a human.”

“Well, you two are in charge of android-human related crimes. Why are we here?” said Gavin, folding his arms.

“I believe the killer is a human,” said Connor.

“So we’ve got humans killing androids and humans,” muttered Gavin, stepping past Hank and Connor to look at the bodies. Wren moved to follow, but Connor held out a hand to stop her.

“I should warn you,” he said in a low voice, “the dead android is the same type of model that North is.”

Wren felt the color drain from her face. She pursed her lips and nodded stiffly. Connor stepped aside, allowing Wren free access to look at the bodies. She froze as she stared down at the dead Traci with North’s face. Wren’s breath quickened and she wiped her clammy palms on her pants. _It’s not her. It’s not her. It just looks like her. North is okay._

Wren blew out a breath, forced herself to maintain her composure and crouched beside the body of the dead human. It was a man, shot once in the head execution-style. Wren narrowed her eyes as she examined the body. The entrance wound was slightly skewed, as if the killer’s hand shook when they took pulled the trigger.

“The killer didn’t have that steady of a hand,” said Wren, twisting to look up at Connor. “Is that what gave it away?”

Connor tilted his head. “No. There are fingerprints on the note left behind. Though, that is a stark indicator of a human killer.”

“A note?” said Gavin, straightening from examining the dead man.

Connor passed over a note in an evidence bag. Gavin took it and frowned. Wren peered over his shoulder at the note and mimicked her partner’s frown. The note bore only a single word: Anonoma. She peered at Connor for an answer.

“It means ‘without name,’” he stated. “We believe they are an organized crime circle targeting Traci androids.”

“So why a human now?” said Gavin.

“What’s his name?” Wren turned to Connor, folding her arms.

“Varick Sullivan,” said Connor. “He worked at CyberLife as an engineer, but was terminated due to his unethical conduct.” Connor frowned, his LED flickering yellow as he processed new information. “Oh.”

“What?” Wren queried.

Connor’s brow pinched. “He conducted experiments on androids in need of repair. One android killed their… owner. Sullivan was never found guilty.”

Wren scowled. “Why not?”

Connor tilted his head, his brow still furrowed. “The evidence was deemed circumstantial and the outcome was ruled as inconclusive.”

“Who investigated that case?” Hank asked, his arms folded.

“Officer Wilkins,” said Connor.

“Poor Wilkins,” said Hank, shaking his head. “So, this guy’s got connections who’ll help him out in a bind.”

“Until he turns his back on them,” said Wren. She shifted her weight to one hip. “Looks like he pissed off the wrong people.”

“Maybe he was gonna snitch on this Anonoma group,” suggested Gavin.

“But why are they killing Tracies?” Wren asked.

Connor tucked his chin toward his chest. “There’s evidence that the Tracies were reset before they were killed.”

Wren bit her lip. “Does resetting erase deviancy, too?”

Connor met Wren’s gaze and her stomach lurched. “Yes.”

“So why reset them?” Gavin asked. “So they can’t fight back?”

“They’re essentially slaves,” said Wren. Her brow puckered. “But why kill them?”

“My guess is that they were showing signs of deviancy,” said Connor.

“So why not reset them again?” Gavin queried.

Wren folded her arms. “That’s a good question. Killing them leaves a body trail.”

“So maybe this killer isn’t doing it out of duty to Anonoma. Maybe they don’t like Tracies,” suggested Hank.

Wren nodded slowly. “Explains why the killer’s hand shook when they shot Varick Sullivan. To someone who doesn’t view androids as alive, killing an android is easier than killing a human.”

Connor’s gaze dropped. Wren glanced at him, her heartstrings twanging. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but she did not want to prove Gavin right. She needed to control herself. It had been easier to do that when she worked for Prometheus, as her programming also helped keep her emotions in check. Now, they had free reign.

“Connor, what did Varick Sullivan do after his trial?” Wren asked. Connor lifted his gaze.

His eyes glazed over as he analyzed Varick Sullivan’s background. “His bank records suggest that he worked as the Eden Club’s engineer. He programmed the androids to wipe their memories, fixed them when they were damaged and upgraded them to make them more pleasurable to humans.”

Wren scrunched her nose and frowned, feeling rather queasy. She hugged her middle. “Then I think we need to go to the Eden Club.”

“They’re not the same Eden Club they used to be,” said Gavin. “They offered to pay their androids for their work. Most of the androids left, but some stayed for pay. Eden Club hires humans now, too.”

Wren raised an eyebrow. “You sure do know a lot about the Eden Club.”

“Shut up,” said Gavin with a roll of his eyes, “I’m staying on top of the news. I want to make sure no more assholes like Dipshit here come to take my job.”

“ _If_ any androids like Connor exist,” Wren said, lifting her chin, “and they take your job, it’s because you suck.”

Hank snorted while Gavin glowered at Wren. He stepped forward. “What happened to a truce and playing nice?”

“You stopped playing nice first!” Wren argued.

Hank forced his way in between them. “Alright, that’s enough, you two. Let’s go to the Eden Club, see what we can find out about this Anonoma group and Varick Sullivan.”

Wren stepped back, though she still watched Gavin through narrowed eyes. She set her jaw and dipped her head once to acknowledge Hank’s suggestion.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Eden Club was unlike the strip club that Wren once worked for. The other strip club had dark, red lighting and velvet cushioned couches encircling the stage. They had kept it dark and mysterious, claiming it gave the place a “sexy atmosphere.” The Eden Club, however, was bright. Pink and blue neon lights lit the room, stinging Wren’s eyes if she stared at them directly. The floor was dark blue carpet, muffling their footsteps. Electronica music thumped through the walls like a disco heartbeat. Wren felt the vibrations reverberate through her bones.

Pink light fell over one half of Connor’s face while blue illuminated the other. He seemed to glow in the neon light. Wren supposed that was the point of the odd lighting. Wren tore her gaze away from him.

“Alright, Connor and I will ask around about the Traci, see if anyone knew her. You guys ask the owner about Sullivan. We might want to be careful about mentioning Anonoma. They might know of it, they might not,” said Hank.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” muttered Gavin. He walked off and Wren followed with a backward glance at Hank and Connor. She turned away, trying not to think about the erotic pink light on Connor’s face.

They found the owner of the Eden Club in a back office. He was a tall man with slicked back dark hair. His glittering eyes looked Gavin and Wren over. He licked his lips. “You must be the detectives. I’m Res Cole.” He held out a slender hand for Wren and Gavin to shake.

“Detective Reed. This is Officer Morgan,” said Gavin, jerking Res Cole’s hand.

“Charmed,” said Res Cole silkily. “What can I help you with?”

“We came to ask about Varick Sullivan. He used to work here as an engineer,” said Wren.

“He was an investor, too,” said Res Cole, his face shadowing. “But the bastard pulled out after the liberation. We had to hire human dancers when three quarters of our android dancers left. Then we started paying the androids, and that was the last straw for him. For a lot of our investors, apparently.”

Wren tilted her head. “You seem bitter about this.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” snapped Res Cole. “When he and Creta Shaw pulled their support, the Eden Club nearly went under. We’re just now getting back on our feet. I can’t even hire bodyguards to protect the dancers.”

Wren frowned. “We found Varick Sullivan’s body early this morning.”

Res Cole’s eyebrows jetted toward his hairline. “You think I killed him? No way. Sure, I was pissed off, but Shaw protects him. I wouldn’t cross her.”

“Creta Shaw,” said Gavin slowly, “that name rings a bell.”

“It should. Her family comes from old money. Really old money. She’s one of the richest people in Detroit. She’s also very anti-android,” said Res Cole.

“That’s where I remember her name,” said Gavin. “She gave a speech recently, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know, I don’t keep up with that shit,” shrugged Res.

Wren wrinkled her brow. “You said she protects Varick Sullivan?”

“Or protected,” said Res, “if he’s dead now. But yeah. She runs a club downtown. Place called The Illusion.”

Wren nodded. “Thank you.”

She and Gavin left and wandered into the open area of the club. Several androids and humans danced on the stages and poles, smiling and winking seductively. One Traci stood off to the side, her arms crossed over her black lingerie. Her dark hair hung over her shoulder. Her Hispanic complexion was doused in glitter, which caught the light every time she moved. She lifted her dark eyes and smirked when she saw Wren staring.

Wren crossed over to her. “Hello. My name’s Officer Wren Morgan.”

The Traci smiled. “A woman in uniform. I like that.”

Wren cleared her throat. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“If it’s you, no,” said the Traci.

Wren pursed her lips for a moment. “What’s your name?”

The android blinked. “Ana.”

“Ana,” Wren repeated, “are you aware of the recent Traci models going missing and turning up dead?”

Ana’s seductive smirk faltered. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Wren dipped her head. “You’re taking precautions to stay safe?”

“I am. I never go anywhere alone,” said Ana.

“Good,” Wren puffed. She glanced at Connor, who joined her. He held up his palm, showing a picture of the dead Traci they just investigated. Her model number appeared at the bottom of the picture.

“Did you know this android?”

“Yeah,” said Ana, furrowing her brow. “That’s Tanya. She left the Club months ago. Is she okay?”

Wren’s lips parted. “I’m sorry, Ana. We found her body this morning.”

Ana closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. “RA9,” she murmured. She lifted her gaze to meet Wren and Connor’s. “What do you need to know?”

“Do you know anything about a group called Anonoma?” Connor questioned.

Ana’s eyes widened. “Only that they’re an extremely vocal anti-android organization. Mostly they just scare androids by showing up to speeches and marches… I’m pretty sure that Creta Shaw funds them.”

“Why do you say that?” Wren queried, folding her arms.

“Because she basically said so on her blog,” said Ana. “I try to read the anti-android blogs to make sure I know to stay away from certain areas of town. They plan attacks in those blogs.”

Connor and Wren exchanged a glance before turning back to Ana. Wren placed a hand on Ana’s arm. “Please go to Jericho and tell them what’s going on with these dead Tracies. They might be able to provide protection. I know North will want to help.”

Ana nodded. “I might stay there for a few days for things to calm down.”

“That isn’t a bad idea,” said Connor. “They have lodging there for androids without residences. Make sure the other androids here know.”

“I will,” said Ana.

“Thank you for your time,” said Wren.

Ana’s lips twisted with a smirk. “Anytime, Officer Morgan.”

Wren’s cheeks heated as she turned away with Connor. They joined Hank and Gavin near the entrance.

“Looks like we need to talk to this Creta Shaw,” said Gavin.

Hank rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know if we should outright talk to her. She’s a powerful woman and she might not like a bunch of cops butting into her business, if she really is organizing this crime ring. She’ll have dangerous allies.”

“What if,” said Wren slowly, “she didn’t know we were cops?”

Hank’s eyebrows lifted. “You just dyin’ to go undercover again?”

“Well, we could talk to patrons there as well as Shaw herself. If we go to the club and talk to patrons or find someone who works for Shaw, we can get information on how to take her down,” said Wren.

“And if they don’t give us any information?” Gavin challenged.

“Then we talk to her directly. But she does have the right to refuse answering our questions. And we don’t have any evidence linking her to this case. Just a lot of hearsay,” said Wren.

“You think you can get someone to talk?” Hank queried.

Wren smirked. “I have my ways, Lieutenant.”

Hank shook his head. “I don’t wanna know. Let’s just try to get you guys in this club. I’m too old to go clubbing and Connor is too… Connor. It’s gonna be up to you two.”

Wren exchanged a glance with Gavin. He nodded and Wren faced Hank. “We can do this.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren entered The Illusion in a dress that Tina loaned her. It was simple: black satin with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline. Even Gavin looked spiffy in his dark button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and fitted jeans. Wren wished she could see Connor in something like that. Her eyes stretched at the thought and she forced it into the depths of her mind. She shook it off and sauntered into the club, making sure to sashay her hips. She knew this game all too well. The dark red lighting of the club reminded Wren of the strip club she worked at in Ellsworth. Except this lighting seemed less sexy and more apocalyptic. Wren’s eyes noted the dancers in the middle of the room, the bar off to the side, the Tracies dancing on stripper poles to the left and the stairs leading to a loft above. A guard blocked the stairs. Wren assumed that Creta Shaw –or anyone else important –occupied the loft.

Wren swept off without a word to Gavin. They knew their objective, and it was best that people didn’t think they were here together. Wren watched the dancers. Gavin disappeared in the crowd. Wren’s eyes flicked over businessmen sitting in the velvet seat encircling the dancers’ stages. She needed to find someone who worked for Shaw, someone she could seduce easily. Wren stopped as an android carried a plate of drinks passed.

“My apologies,” said the android in a flat tone. Wren looked into the android’s eyes. They were _dead_ , lifeless. Wren’s heart jumped. She never wanted to see that blank look in Connor’s eyes. Or North’s. Wren swallowed and stepped aside, allowing the android to pass. Wren made her way to the bar, not ready to dance yet. Her gaze fell on a man leaning against the bar. He wore all black.

**«scanning» [SENTRY 2-Wire PTT Earpiece Detected]**

Bingo. Wren plastered on her most seductive smile and sauntered over to him. “You look lonely.”

The man looked at her, his eyebrows lifting toward his sandy hairline. “Maybe a little bit.” 

“Buy me a drink?” Wren said huskily.

“I’m on the clock, sweetheart,” said the man.

“That’s too bad,” said Wren, stepping closer to him. She toyed with the buttons of his Polo shirt. “I was really hoping to make a friend tonight.” She leaned toward him, allowing her breath to tickle his ear as he spoke. When she drew back, the man waved the bartender –an android –over.

“What do you want, doll?” he asked.

Wren looked at the android. “An Apple of My Eye,” she ordered. “And don’t forget the apple slice.”

“Of course, miss,” said the android, jumping to work. Wren masked the stab of guilt easily, turning her head to smile at the man.

“You got a name?”

“Johnny,” said the man. He shifted to face her. “You?”

“Isabelle,” said Wren. She leaned closer, resting her chin on her hand. “But my friends call me Belle.”

“Belle, huh?” said Johnny. He grinned. “Suits you.”

Wren feigned bashfulness. “Thank you.”

The android brought Wren’s cocktail to her. She sipped the apple vodka, maintaining eye contact with Johnny. He watched her lick her lips with a slackened jaw.

“Why aren’t you out there dancing?” said Johnny.

Wren glanced at the dance floor. “I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

“Why don’t you go find someone? I told you I’m on the clock,” said Johnny, though Wren noticed the glint in his eyes.

Wren pouted. “You don’t want my company?”

“I-I do,” gulped Johnny as Wren placed a hand on his thigh.

“Then why are you trying to get rid of me?” Wren breathed.

“Don’t see why you’re wasting your time with me,” muttered Johnny.

Wren snorted. “Well, you don’t know my type, Johnny. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s the beefcake over there. Maybe not.”

Johnny’s gaze flicked to the muscular man grinding on some blonde girl. He looked back to Wren. “Well, I hope it’s me. I get off in a… twenty minutes.”

“Hopefully it takes longer than that,” Wren teased. “To get off.”

Wren saw the blush on Johnny’s cheeks, even in the blue light. Wren plucked the apple slice off the rim of her drink and took a bite out of it, still staring into Johnny’s eyes. Wren offered part of the piece to him. He shook his head. Wren finished the slice and glanced toward the android bartender.

“I thought this place was anti-android?” she queried.

Johnny shrugged. “It’s anti- _free_ android. These have all been reset.”

“Ah,” Wren nodded with a smile. She sipped from her drink. “That’s smart of Ms. Shaw.”

“You did your homework,” said Johnny, raising his eyebrows.

Wren bit her lip. “They’re all sex androids, right?”

“Yeah,” said Johnny, sounding disappointed. “Creta Shaw makes a lot of money off them.”

Wren tilted her head, eyeing a Traci taking a man in a suit into a private room. “What happens if the androids start going deviant? If I’m gonna pay for a good fuck, I don’t want the damn thing suddenly asking existential questions, if you know what I mean.”  

Johnny’s face fell. “You’re a potential customer?”

“I’m a potential whatever Ms. Shaw wants out of me,” Wren replied, running her hands along Johnny’s chest.

“Multipurpose, huh?” Johnny choked. “She’ll like that. She just resets them.”

“So… If I have an android I wanna sell to her… She’ll take it off my hands?” Wren puckered her lips.

“D-depends on if she likes it or not.”

“Oh, she better like it. The model I have is worth a small fortune. But I don’t want to draw attention with it, you know?” Wren winked as she brought her lips back to Johnny’s neck His cologne nearly gagged her, but she continued kissing him. She teethed his pulse and he jumped.

“G-gotcha. Yeah, if she thinks its worth it, she’ll buy it. What kind of android is it?” Johnny tried to sound casual.

“It’s _multipurpose_ ,” Wren breathed into Johnny’s ear. He shivered underneath her. “Sort of like a bodyguard android. Think she’d be interested?” Wren drew back, lifting an eyebrow.  

“Oh yeah. She’s been having a problem with one of her people destroying her androids,” Johnny licked his lips as he stared up at Wren.

“You’re shitting me,” Wren gasped, pulling back from Johnny abruptly.

“I’m not.” Johnny frowned.

Wren lowered her gaze. “Then maybe I shouldn’t sell my android to her…”

“Why do you care what happens to it?” Johnny wrapped his hands around Wren’s and placed them back on his chest.

“I don’t. I just want to make sure I get my money’s worth,” Wren replied, lifting a brow.

 “Creta’s not the type to screw you over. But uh… I’d like to, if you’re into that,” Johnny murmured, staring up at Wren with rounded eyes.

Wren laughed. “Smooth, very smooth.”

“Wanna dance?” Johnny queried.

“Get me an audience with Shaw, and I’m all yours,” Wren promised.

Johnny smiled crookedly. “You’re cold. Fine, I’ll bite.”

Wren grinned and winked at him. She took him by the hand and led him to the dance floor. She started with her back against Johnny’s chest. She swayed her hips, grinding against Johnny. He placed his hands on her hips. She bowed down to touch the floor before straightening slowly. She rolled her body in tune with the bass. She raised her arms and sank down to a crouch again. Spreading her legs, she bounced once and jumped up again. She faced Johnny, curving her body against his. His goatee scratched her face as they grinded against each other. Wren pushed Connor from her mind to focus on the mission. Some part of her wished she were dancing with him rather than Johnny. The other part of her hoped Connor never saw her dance like this. She didn’t want to scare him away with this side of her.

After the song ended, Wren looped her arms around Johnny’s neck, panting. “Take me to Creta Shaw.”

Johnny nodded, a dazed look in his eyes. He led the way to the staircase in the back. The guard standing in front of the glass stairs stepped aside, though he narrowed his eyes at Wren. She lifted her eyebrows at him, challenging him to say anything. He remained silent. Wren followed Johnny up the stairs to semi-circle white sofa in the back. Creta Shaw sat in the middle, one leg crossed over the other. She wore a sparkling gown with a high slit. She lifted one sculpted eyebrow.

“Johnny, you know how I feel about visitors,” she said coldly. Her ice-blonde hair hung to the middle of her neck in long, sleek bob.

“We’ve got a potential business partner,” said Johnny. “Or… you do, ma’am.”

Creta Shaw sipped from the glass in her hand. “I’m listening…?”

“Isabelle Lawson,” Wren fibbed. “I have an RK800 model. Prototype. I could sell it to you,” Wren said, folding her arms.

Creta’s eyebrows pinched together slightly. “An RK800? To my knowledge, there’s only one. How did you come by it?”

“I used to work for CyberLife. I worked on this particular model. It’s equipped with the latest technologies. I hear you’ve got a problem with someone destroying your androids,” Wren lied smoothly.

Creta’s eyes flicked to Johnny. “Mr. Thompson told you correctly, if out of turn and above his paygrade.”

“This RK800 can solve the problem for you,” Wren replied.

Creta settled her grey eyes on Wren. “I’m aware of the RK800’s capabilities. You never answered how you… obtained such an asset.”

“I told you. I used to work on it at CyberLife. It trusted me after it deviated. I reset it,” Wren shrugged.

Creta puckered her lips. “Hm. How’d you know to come to me?”

“Do you even read the news? Traci models going missing, turning up destroyed… And then here, you have all these Traci models. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots,” Wren replied, lifting her chin.

Creta clucked her tongue. “Looks like I need to be more careful. Tie up loose ends.” Her eyes narrowed at Johnny. “I’ll deal with you later. Go.”

Johnny backed away, a slightly panicked look on his face. Wren maintained her composure, but her stomach twisted at the thought that she might have personally signed this man’s death warrant. She faced Creta, her face smoothing into cold composure. “Do we have a deal?”

Creta tilted her head thoughtfully. “Bring the RK800 here tomorrow afternoon. I’ll look it over and decide.”

“If you like it?” Wren queried. 

“Then you’ll be a rich woman.”

“And if you don’t?”

Creta smiled. “Then I have loose ends to tie.”

“Sounds pretty risky for me.”

“Well, if you’re who you say you are, there’s no need to worry, is there?”

“Guess not,” Wren shrugged and turned to leave. 

“One more thing,” Creta called. Wren turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised. “Why are you so eager to get rid of this model?”

Wren snorted. “It’s a highly-equipped prototype model. You’ve got the means to keep cops off your trail. I don’t want to catch anymore attention with it. Besides, I’ve just been waiting for the right time to sell it.”

Creta dipped her head. “I look forward to doing business with you, Ms. Lawson.”

“Likewise, Ms. Shaw,” Wren returned. She left the loft, her heart pounding in tandem with the click of her heels. She caught Gavin’s eye as she strutted across the dance floor and to the main exit. Wren walked down the street and wheeled when she heard footsteps.

“It’s just me,” said Gavin. “What’ve you got?”

“A problem,” said Wren as they trekked down the block to where Hank and Connor were parked. Wren and Gavin slid into the backseat. Hank drove off, taking the long way to the station. “I met Shaw. She doesn’t know who’s killing the dead Tracies. But, I think if we take her down, we can draw the real killer out of hiding.”

“And how do we do that?” Hank questioned.

Wren chewed on her cheek. “I… kind of offered to sell Connor to her.”

Hank, Connor and Gavin looked at her. “The fuck’s wrong with you?” Hank demanded, facing the road again.

“Well, obviously, I don’t actually mean we’re going to _sell_ Connor. We’re just going to make her think we are.” Wren quickly explained her rough plan.

“I don’t like it,” said Hank. “A lot of things can go wrong.”

“We don’t have a lot of time to decide,” said Wren. “We have the chance to take down an anti-android crime ring and draw out a killer. Connor records everything he sees. We can catch her admitting to what she does, arrest her and find our real killer.”

“I say fuck it,” said Gavin, shrugging. “Wren and Connor are capable of handling themselves long enough to wait for backup. We wait with some backup while they go in, get Creta to admit to things, and then they’re out.”

“And what if shit hits the fan?” Hank countered.

“Then we’ll be there to help,” said Gavin.

“Okay, and if this doesn’t draw out the killer?” Hank demanded.

“Then we take down an anti-android crime ring. We’ll be helping the androids there, too,” said Wren. “They’re kidnapping these Tracies, resetting them so that they’re no longer deviants and selling their bodies. Every time they deviate, their memories are wiped and they’re reset. Hank, this is a whole new form of sex trafficking.”

The car’s air thickened with a heavy silence. Hank dragged a hand down his face. “Fine.” He parked the car at the station. They waited for Gavin to get out before driving home. When they were back inside Hank’s house, Hank locked the front door and turned to Wren. “I don’t like this one bit. I don’t want either of you idiots getting hurt.”

Wren offered him a soft smile. “We’ll be okay, Hank. Gavin’s working on getting Chris and Tina as backup. Just don’t make it obvious that you guys are cops when you surround the place, okay? We don’t want to spook Shaw before we have a chance to catch her.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how undercover stings work,” said Hank, waving a hand. He placed his hands on his hips. “Get her to offer to pay and then Connor can alert us and we’ll come in. You both will be going in unarmed. Just her offering to buy Connor will be enough for an arrest. Just… get her to do that, and you’ll be golden, okay?”

“Got it,” said Wren. Hank’s lips pulled in a strained, lopsided smile. He backed away to his bedroom and closed the door. Wren chewed on her cheek before facing Connor. “I’m sorry I had to throw you under the bus. It was the quickest story I could come up with that would give me an audience with her. The way I had to talk about you to get her to accept… You know I don’t really think of you that way, right?”

Connor tilted his head. “I didn’t hear anything you said to her, Wren.”

Wren looked away. She closed her eyes for several seconds. “Tomorrow, I’m going to have to say things that will…” She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to meet Connor’s. “I’m going to have to treat you…”

“I know, Wren,” Connor murmured, stepping toward her. “You’re just accomplishing your mission.”

Wren pursed her lips, tears stinging her eyes. “No, I want you to know that… I don’t think of you as an ‘it’ or a machine or a thing… And I certainly don’t think you’re lesser than me or just merchandise. You’re so much more than that.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “I know you don’t think those things of me. But I appreciate you saying so.”

Wren nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She wrapped her arms around Connor’s waist. “I’m sorry in advance for how I’ll treat you tomorrow.”

Connor returned the hug, though gently. “It’s alright. I understand.” They were quiet for a moment. “Wren, I will have to act like a machine in order to convince her that I am not a deviant.”

Wren balled her hands into fists and nodded into his chest. “Looks like we’re both going to have to play a part to do this.”

“It does look that way, yes.” Connor’s voice sounded tightened than usual. Their grip on one another constricted for a moment. 

Wren withdrew, blinking back tears. Connor’s lips parted, but he did not comment on Wren’s uncontrolled emotion. She jerked a nod. “Let’s take this bitch down.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren entered The Illusion, which looked just as dark during the day as it did at night. Fewer people were there, but the club still managed to treat customers. Connor wore his old CyberLife-issued clothing, which, to Wren’s amusement, did not look much different from his usual work attire. The branding on the jacket set Wren’s teeth on edge, but Connor looked like himself in it. He followed Wren, assuming the role of subservience while Wren held her head high. She knew she looked the part of a cold, calculating businesswoman. She could play any role she needed to. But that was before she’d broken free of her programming. Emotions were harder to control without it, and just the thought of treating Connor like an object plagued her stomach with nausea.

Creta Shaw stood near the glass staircase. Instead of leading them upstairs, she directed them to a door behind her. They followed Creta inside a room with bright white lighting. Wren blinked against the harsh change in setting. Creta stood in the center of the blank room, her hands clasped in front of her. Two guards stood on either side of her. Wren gestured to Connor.

“The RK800,” she announced. “As promised.”

Creta kept her features impassive as she circled Connor, who stared ahead, impossibly still. His LED remained blue. He looked at Creta with cold indifference. Wren’s stomach twisted seeing him act so unalive.

“It _is_ an attractive model,” Creta mused, stopping in front of Connor. She lifted a hand to cup her chin. “I’m assuming it is equipped with a sexual organ?”

Wren cursed the blush creeping up her neck. She maintained a smooth, impassive expression. “Yes, but it is not equipped with the advanced sexual capabilities that Tracies are.”

Creta nodded slowly. “That can be fixed.” she murmured. She backed away from Connor, still eyeing him. Wren glanced at him. His eyes flicked to hers for a millisecond. Wren turned toward Creta.

“So? Do we have a deal, or are you gonna stare at it all day?” Wren demanded.

Creta’s lips quirked. “I want it to take off its clothes.”

Wren scowled. “What? Why?”

“I want to see what I’m buying first,” said Creta coldly, meeting Wren’s gaze. “Or do you have a problem with that?”

Wren clenched her jaw before looking at Connor. “You heard her. Take off your clothes.”

Connor looked at her, his LED flickering. Wren’s heart stuttered, but Creta did not seem to notice Connor’s LED. In fact, Creta did not watch Connor remove his jacket. Her eyes were on Wren, who forced herself to remain unbothered as Creta stepped nearer.

“You know, I have friends who used to work at CyberLife,” said Creta. Wren stiffened as Creta stood right behind her. Creta’s chest pressed against Wren’s back. Connor slowed the process of loosening his tie, but he stared ahead. “And they told me that there was one overseeing engineer who was in charge of the RK800.” Creta’s lips tickled Wren’s ear. Connor tossed his tie to the side, his eyes flicking to Wren’s for a moment. “And their name wasn’t Isabelle Lawson.”

Wren stiffened. “I didn’t say I was the chief engineer. I just said I worked on it.”

“Well, none of them mentioned an Isabelle Lawson working there.”

Connor worked on unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“CyberLife’s a big company.”

“It is,” chuckled Creta, “but what I find most interesting is the RK800 itself. You know, I’ve never seen a non-deviant android look at their human master quite like how this RK800 keeps looking at you. And how you keep looking at _it_.”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow. Wren’s lips parted as their eyes met. Wren heard the click of a gun’s hammer and twisted. She roundhouse-kicked the gun out of Creta’s hand. She wrestled the woman to the ground while the guards opened fire. Wren trusted Connor to take care of himself. Wren punched Creta in the face. Connor slid on the floor and grabbed Creta’s gun and opened fire on the two guards, killing them instantly.

“This is Detective Connor, requesting backup,” said Connor, his LED flickering. He and Wren stood and hurried out of the room. The guards in the club opened fire at Wren and Connor, sending the patrons of the club into a frenzy. Connor grabbed Wren and they dove over the bar and landed heavily onto the floor. Glass and booze rained down on them. Connor jumped up and opened fire on the security guards. He dropped back down beside Wren. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of thirium seeping through his shirt and blazer.

“You’re hurt,” Wren breathed.

“They didn’t hit any vital biocomponents,” Connor said. “I’m fine.”

Wren nodded stiffly. She tensed when a small flash grenade landed before them. She grabbed it and tossed it back over the bar. “How the fuck did they get a grenade?” she said, dropping back down beside Connor. The explosion trembled the building. While the remaining guards fumbled in the wake of the flash, Wren and Connor jumped over the bar and headed for the main exit. Too many guards blocked it, so they veered toward a corridor.

“I’m downloading the blueprints to the building,” Connor said as they ran, “there’s a back exit ahead.”

“Lead the way,” Wren replied. Connor turned down a hallway and Wren followed. They sprinted toward a service exit. Two guards entered the hallway. As soon as they saw Wren and Connor, they lifted their guns. Connor raised Creta’s gun and fired at one of the guards. Wren pushed herself past Connor as the second guard aimed at him. She jumped and used the wall to propel herself at the guard. She wrapped her legs around his head and twisted, bringing him crashing to the floor. Connor shot the other guard in the head. Wren knocked the guard she’d brought down out and jumped to her feet. They ran to the exit door and pushed it open, bursting into a back alley. Wren doubled over, panting.

“There’s a back entrance, Hank,” said Connor, pacing the alley. “We’re in the alley behind the building. Call for emergency aid and any surrounding units. We’re fine…” Connor turned his back to Wren as he paced, talking to Hank via his connection to Hank’s communicator.

Wren straightened and widened her eyes when Creta Shaw stepped into the alley, blood running down her cheek. “Fucking androids.” She lifted her gun, aiming past Wren at Connor.

Wren reacted before she thought. It was something she’d been trained to do. It came easily in a fight, acting on instinct. But Prometheus had honed her instincts to keep her alive. She was trained to kill and to _survive_. But she ignored that instinct as soon as Creta raised the gun and aimed at Connor.

Time seemed to slow as Wren ran to block Connor from the bullet. He had turned upon hearing Creta’s voice, but he seemed frozen as Wren jumped in front of him. The bullet tore through her body. She stood still, unable to feel any pain. Creta’s eyebrows were raised, still holding the gun up. The impact of the shot knocked the breath out of Wren, and she stumbled back. Connor caught her and laid her on the ground. Connor’s eyes searched Wren’s. Her vision blurred. He looked away from her for a moment and a second gunshot sounded. Wren heard Creta’s body crumple to the ground.

“Officer Morgan is down, requesting immediate medical aid.” Connor sounded calm, save for the slight tremble in his voice. He looked down at Wren, who met his gaze through half-lidded eyes.

“You’ll be alright. Stay calm,” said Connor, though he looked as if he were telling himself. He placed his hands on Wren’s torso, in between and slightly lower than her breasts. Blood flooded into the back of Wren’s mouth. Her chest burned. She choked on the blood clogging her throat. Connor looked away, focusing on the wound. He pressed harder and pain seared through Wren’s body. She let out a whimper and Connor looked at her, his LED flashing red.

“H-Hank! I need help!” Connor yelled. Wren had never heard him sound so desperate. A second person crouched beside her.

“Jesus Christ…” Hank murmured. “Eyes open, kid. Don’t go to sleep, alright?”

Wren forced her eyes open. Her vision slid in and out of focus. She looked at Connor, her body convulsing.

“Here, kid,” said Hank, handing Connor his overshirt.

Connor bunched up the Hawaiian-patterned shirt and used it to staunch the blood pouring from Wren’s body. Her skin felt sticky. She focused on Connor, watching the way his brow pinched and the corners of his mouth were drawn taut. He avoided her gaze as he placed pressure on her wound. It hurt, and Wren jerked away, letting out a whimper.

“Don’t move,” Connor said. “I need to maintain pressure on the wound.”

“I know it hurts, kid,” said Hank, peering down at Wren. He placed a hand on her forehead.

“Where’s the ambulance?” Connor demanded.

“On its way,” said Hank. “The others are making arrests now.”

“How far?” Connor snapped.

“I don’t know, a few minutes,” said Hank.

“She doesn’t have much time!” Connor cried. Wren’s pulse quickened and coldness struck her in the pit of her chest. Was she going to die?

“Connor, calm down,” barked Hank. “Wrenley, keep your eyes open for us, sweetheart.”

Wren forced her eyes open again. She didn’t remember closing them. Connor’s face peered down at her, his eyes bright, almost feverish. She glanced at Hank. He looked calm, but his eyes betrayed him. She looked at Connor. “S’okay, Con…nor… ‘m okay…”

“Don’t speak,” Connor said sharply.

Wren winced as another flood of pain wracked her body. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Blood trickled from her mouth. She gazed up at him, and tears filled her eyes again. Her chest ached, though not from the wound bleeding her life away. “Connor…”

“Stop talking!” Connor snapped.

Wren looked between Connor and Hank, who shared a panicked look. Connor’s LED continued to circle red. Wren coughed a bloody chuckle. “Do me… a favor…”

“What?” Hank demanded.

“Act… like you guys… are going to… see me… again…” Wren wheezed.

“You’re gonna be alright, kid,” Hank sounded pained. “Eyes open, sweetheart, eyes open.”

Wren forced her eyes open once more. She looked at Connor through blurred eyes. His lips parted and his eyes were wide. “Please stop talking, Wren. The bullet penetrated through your upper abdomen, and you’re at risk of a collapsed lung. I need you to remain still and quiet.” He looked at her, his eyes earnest. “Please.”

Wren wanted to argue, because she had so much to say. She didn’t want him to blame himself. She didn’t regret her choice. She wanted to tell him… She reached for him, but her arms were too heavy. Her synthetic skin rippled away and she stretched her fingers for him. She needed to tell him before she died. She needed him to know.

Two paramedics arrived, shooing Connor and Hank away. Wren looked around for them, her eyes wide. “N-no, please… don’t… leave…” Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t want to die with strangers. She wanted her family.

The paramedics wrapped an oxygen mask around her face. They patched up her wound as best as possible. She looked around as wildly as her heavy head would let her. Her head lolled to one side as the paramedics lifted her onto a gurney. She couldn’t see Connor or Hank. Tears slipped down her temples and into her hairline. Then, they were on either side of her as she was pushed toward an ambulance.

“We’ll see you at the hospital, kid,” said Hank.

“I want to ride with her,” Connor insisted.

“This is too urgent sir,” said one of the paramedics, “we can’t allow that.” They lifted Wren into the back of an ambulance. Instead of the sky, or Connor’s face, she saw a florescent light. She closed her eyes to shield herself from the light.

“Let… him…” she murmured, but the oxygen mask muffled her breathy whisper. She opened her eyes, looking for Connor. She wanted him to know that she loved him.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your comments and kudos and support!   
> ((btw, don't imagine Wren taking a bullet for Connor and him trying to stop the bleeding to the song "This is the End" from the DBH score. it hurts :))


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Connor stared at his hands, sticky with Wren’s blood.

_She fell back and he caught her, lowering her to the ground as she gazed up at him, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen. Connor cradled Wren’s head as her breath escaped her mouth in rasps. Connor sensed Creta Shaw raising her gun to kill him. He lifted his gun and fired the last bullet into Creta’s head. He dropped the gun and looked to Wren. Blood gushed from the wound and she jerked with spasms. His metal heart fluttered._

Hank paced the waiting room, rubbing the back of his head. He paused after a moment, stopping in front of Connor.

_“I want to ride with her,” Connor insisted, stepping toward the ambulance. Hank grabbed him by the arms while a paramedic told him no. Connor’s mouth fell open and he looked at Wren, his eyes wide. She couldn’t see him. She mouthed something, but Connor wasn’t quite sure what she said. He could’ve sworn that she had whispered, “Let him.”_

“Go wash that off,” Hank said, gesturing to Connor’s hands.

Connor blinked the burning from his eyes and focused on his hands. The blood had dried into reddish brown streaks that smelled like rust. He tried moving his fingers, but the dried blood acted like an adhesive, tugging at his synthetic skin in a way that made his metal heart lurch.

“I’d like to wait for news, Hank.”

“We’re gonna be waiting a while, kid,” said Hank, placing his hands on his hips. “She won’t be out of surgery for a while.”

Connor pressed his lips together. He knew Hank was right. He pried his hands apart and stood with a tight nod. He crossed the lobby and trekked to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and stuck his hands in the steady stream of water. He watched as flakes of blood slid off his skin and disappeared down the drain. He rubbed his hands together, scraped under his nails and added soap to his scrubbing. Eventually, the blood on his hands washed off. He flicked the faucet off and met his gaze in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink, ignoring the bloodstains on the hems of his sleeves.

Blood splattered his clothes.

_He heard the bullet ripping through Wren’s body. His sensitive audio input heard the metal plunge through her organs, heard the crack of bone, heard the gasp that hissed from her lungs. The bullet lodged in her body. His limbs shook as he cradled her. Blood spurted when he applied pressure to the wound after executing Creta. It stained his shirt. His face felt wet._

Blood flecked his skin, mingling with his freckles. He switched the water back on and rinsed his face. He dragged his hands down his face, tugging at the synthetic skin. He looked at himself and turned off the water once more.

He looked exhausted. He sucked in a ragged breath to assist his cooling systems.

Why? Why had she done that? It was far easier to repair him than her. His chest tightened and he left the bathroom abruptly, trembling.

He returned to the waiting room and sat down, clasping his hands together. Hank sat across from him, balancing his elbows on his knees.

“It should’ve been me,” Connor muttered, his voice cracking.

“We all wish we could take her place, kid. It’s not your fault,” replied Hank.

Connor shook his head. Pressure built behind his eyes. “Shaw aimed for me, but… Wren… She jumped in front of it. She took the shot for _me_.” Connor raised his head, his vision blurring. “ _Why_? Why would she do that?”

Hank blew out a long breath. “Sometimes… People will do anything to protect the ones they care about.”

Connor’s throat tightened. He bowed his head. “The whole time I was trying to stop the bleeding, I… I felt… I felt… scared. I was scared, Hank.”

“Yeah,” nodded Hank, “me too.”

“Why?”

“I love her too, kid.”

Connor blinked rapidly. His breath hitched. Love?

**love**

**[ləv]**

**an intense feeling of deep affection**

Connor’s artificial heartbeat quickened and his hands tightened around one another. He clenched his jaw.

“Connor? You alright? Your thingy’s going crazy,” said Hank, tapping his temple.

Connor stared at the floor. “Hank?”

“Yeah?”

“H-how do you know… the difference between…” Connor pursed his lips and flared his nostrils as he struggled to find the right words. “A parent loves their child in a different way than they love their partner, correct?”

“Yeah…” said Hank. Connor didn’t need to look at him to know that Hank raised an eyebrow.

“How do you know the difference between the two loves?” Connor queried. He refused to look at Hank, warmth flushing his cheeks.

“Well… That’s not an easy question to answer,” Hank muttered.

Connor looked up, squishing his eyebrows together. “Please?”

Hank sighed. “Think of it this way: there’s a basic foundation that love kind of forms. But there are different levels to it. Or, branches would be a better way to describe it, I guess. Familial love has its own branch, platonic has its own, romantic has its own… You get the idea. But they all stem from the same trunk.”

Connor’s frown deepened and he lowered his gaze. “But how do you know which is which?”

“Most people just sort of _know_ ,” said Hank. “I think it’s different for everybody. Sometimes romantic love has sexual feelings, sometimes it doesn’t. Whatever floats your boat, ya know?”

Connor gritted his teeth. He _didn’t_ know. He knew that the love he had for Hank differed from the love he had for Wren. He widened his eyes. _Did_ he love her? Was that why his chest tightened at the thought of losing her?

_Blood flowed over his hands. He felt Wren’s heartbeat growing fainter. His artificial heart jumped, sending a fresh electrical current through his circuits. He struggled to breathe. It did nothing to keep him alive, per se, but oxygen flowing through his systems gave him the appearance of humanity as well as cooled his systems. He was in danger of overheating from choking on his own breath. He tried not to look at Wren’s face, but he also couldn’t help but look at her. His thirium pump stuttered –and Connor was vaguely aware that it **hurt** –at the thought that this might be the last time he looked at Wren’s face. _

“Look, Connor…” said Hank quietly, “If you’re askin’ these sorts of questions, then I think you might know the answer to ‘em.”

Connor’s heart jumped, seemingly into his throat. He swallowed and let out a strangled breath. He clenched his teeth and swallowed.

 **«//** **15SSBsb31tZlIGhp0551bl3lcj8g//»**

Connor hung his head even lower. The waiting gnawed at him. He wanted to hear something, anything.

“Tina, Chris and Gavin are on their way,” said Hank, looking at his phone.

Connor raised his head and blinked blearily. He widened his eyes and pushed up from his seat. “I’m going to call North.” He left the waiting room and entered the hall, which was vacant of people. Connor’s lips parted at the night sky. It had been late afternoon when they’d arrived. Had it already been three hours?

North answered on the second ring. “Hey, Connor. How are you?”

Connor opened his mouth, but his voice caught. He cleared his throat. “Wren’s been shot.”

“What?” North demanded. “What the fuck happened? Is she…?”

“I-I don’t know,” Connor whispered. He rubbed his face. “She’s in surgery.”

“Holy shit,” North breathed. “I’m coming over. What hospital are you at?”

“Henry Ford,” Connor muttered.

“Okay.” North’s voice trembled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…” Connor closed his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“We’ll be there soon,” said North.

“Okay.” Connor hung up and stared out the window for several seconds. The door to the hall opened. Connor paid it no mind, but when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he glanced at the newcomer.

Tina gazed up at him, her brow furrowed. Tears welled in her eyes. Connor looked down at her with a set jaw. Tina bit her lip. “What happened?”

Connor averted her gaze and ground his teeth. “She took the shot for me.”

Tina bowed her head. “That idiot.” She looked up, inhaling sharply. “Not saying she’s an idiot for saving you, of course.”

“I understand,” Connor said hoarsely, looking out the window. “I feel the same way.” He curled his hands into fists.

“Hey,” said Tina, resting a hand in between his shoulder blades, “she’ll be okay. She’s tough.”

“ _Toughness_ doesn’t keep a bullet from collapsing your lung, Officer Chen.”

“Maybe not,” Tina allowed. Connor offered no reply. Tina left the hallway. 

Connor’s throat constricted. He knew he should not be so harsh with Tina. She was only trying to offer comfort. He gripped the railing beside the window and bowed his head. His hands shook. Something akin to nausea surged through the thirium powering his biocomponents.

Why couldn’t it have been him? He would give _anything_ to take her place.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

North, Markus and Josh arrived within the hour. Connor didn’t even stand to greet them. He sat in the chair closest to the receptionist’s desk, glancing up every time a doctor or nurse walked past. The three leaders of Jericho chatted with Hank. North and Tina embraced, and Tina filled North in as best she could. Connor wanted to be left alone. But Markus did not seem to want that to happen, so he walked over and sat down beside Connor.

“You can’t blame yourself, Connor.”

Connor’s brow twitched. He chose to remain silent. How could he not blame himself? Wren took a bullet meant for _him_. He should be the one getting repaired. Wren should be in the waiting room, worried about him, not in surgery fighting for her life. Why couldn’t she have just let him get shot?

**«pr0c3551ng_d2h5IHdvdWxkIHNoZSBkbyB0aGF0PyBJIGRvbid0IHVuZGVyc3RhbmQg¿?¿?¿?C4N_L1V__1T_0U_H3_▲¡!¡!▼W_Y_0U_D__3_0T_4T»**

Markus balanced his elbows on his knees. “I blamed myself for Simon’s death for a long time. But I realized he did what any of us would’ve done to protect Jericho. You can’t control the actions of others, Connor. You can only control what you do.”

Connor stared at the floor. His throat swelled with a lump. He clenched his teeth and swallowed. His eyes slid shut, hoping to alleviate the burning and pricking. Markus stood to join the others after patting Connor’s shoulder. Fat tears welled in Connor’s eyes. He worked his jaw, trying to hold them back.

After another hour of no news, Gavin left, saying he would do Wren’s paperwork for her. Tina promised to call if there was any news. Chris left, too. He had a wife and son to get back to, but he would be back as soon as he got news. Tina, the androids of Jericho, Hank and Connor remained. Tina left the waiting room to grab food from the vending machine down the hall. She paced the halls, circling back every ten minutes for news. Hank stood from his seat and sat beside Connor.

“You need to get fixed up,” said Hank, gesturing to the graze in Connor’s arm. He glanced down at the flickering blue lights, exposing his innerworkings. He tightened his jaw and returned his gaze back to the floor.

“I will when I know she’s okay.”

Hank sighed. “Connor… You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that she might _not_ be okay.”  

Connor wrinkled his brow as his thirium pump seemed to twist. Was this what Kamski meant about tragedy? Humans were so fragile compared to androids. Androids could deteriorate. They could be destroyed or damaged, but it took far more to kill an android than it did to kill a human. Could it all be over so quickly? Could Wren be snatched from him without so much as a goodbye?

The burning pressure in Connor’s eyes returned. He drew in a shuddering breath. “I… I don’t want her to die, Hank.” He hated how small his voice sounded. He hated how it trembled and cracked.

Hank draped an arm over Connor’s shoulders. “Me neither, son.”

Connor leaned into Hank and closed his eyes, his chest aching. _Please, let her live._

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They waited for seven hours, thirty-six minutes and twenty-nine seconds. Tina slumbered in a chair in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest and her face pressed against the wall. Hank dozed in his seat, his head propped up by his hand. The leaders of Jericho sat together, facing Connor and Hank. No one spoke. Connor clasped his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on his thighs. He stared at the floor, his chest throbbing.

Dr. Willis entered the waiting room, carrying a tablet. “Are you all here for Wren Morgan?”

Connor’s head jerked up. He stood, his legs shaking slightly. “How is she?”

Dr. Willis’s lips twitched. “She’s stable.”

The room let out a collective sigh of relief. Hank stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Can we see her?”

“She is still unconscious,” said Dr. Willis. “The anesthesia hasn’t worn off yet. We had to insert a pneumothorax chest tube in order to seal the puncture and prevent her lung from collapsing. She lost a lot of blood, but we managed a transfusion and removed the bullet. She has a broken rib as well. We’ll want to keep her here for at least a week to keep an eye on her. But we’re optimistic that she’ll make a full recovery.”

Connor let out a noise crossed between a sigh and a whimper. Tension hissed out of his body like air from a tire. He closed his eyes and smiled slightly. _She was alive, and was most likely going to make a full recovery._ Connor was not a spiritual or religious android, but he thanked whatever governed the universe for Wren’s life.

“Can we see her?” Connor asked, drawing his eyebrows together.

Dr. Willis sighed. “Family only at this point, I’m afraid.”

“We’re family,” said Hank, gesturing to himself and Connor.

Dr. Willis pressed his lips together and nodded. “She won’t be awake for a while, but you’re welcome to sit with her until she wakes.”

“Thank you,” Connor breathed. He turned to the others, unable to form words. North offered him a smile.

“Go,” she insisted, shooing him. “You should be there when she wakes up.”

Connor nodded stiffly. He and Hank followed Dr. Willis down the hall and through a set of doors leading to intensive care patients. Connor’s chest clenched as he walked. They stopped at room 317. Dr. Willis pushed open the door and Connor stepped inside. His breath hitched and his mouth fell open. He froze, staring at Wren in the hospital bed.

Her skin was too pale. Shadows darkened underneath her eyes. Her lips were chapped. Oxygen tubes ringed her face. An IV was inserted in the only brachial vein she had. Connor noted the pneumothorax vacuum beside the bed. He circled the bed, coming closer to her side. The pneumothorax tube was thick and inserted in her side. Connor’s throat constricted at the sight of dark purple bruises spiderwebbing across her torso. He swallowed the lump in his throat, but it seemed to lodge in his chest, weighing it down. He sank into a chair beside Wren’s bed. The heart monitor beeped steadily. Connor didn’t know if it comforted or unnerved him.

“Jesus,” Hank breathed, covering his mouth. Connor parted his lips and gazed down at Wren, feeling his artificial heartbeat in his fingertips. “I… I can’t look at this, kid.”

Connor tore his eyes away from Wren to look at Hank, who stared at the ceiling, his eyes glassy. Connor’s chest tightened even more. He knew Hank thought of Cole, staring at Wren in her hospital bed, kept alive with tubes and wires.

Hank cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go home, get some sleep… Take care of some things… Feed Sumo… Are you…?”

“I’m okay,” Connor croaked. “I’ll stay.”

Hank jerked a nod. “Alright. I’ll, uh, let the others know.” He edged toward Connor, patted his shoulder and hurried out of the room. Connor furrowed his brow. He lacked the energy to go after Hank and ensure that the lieutenant was okay. He turned his head and looked back at Wren, watching her chest rise and fall with labored breaths. He pulled his chair closer to bed. He glanced at her hand. A clip around her finger measured her thirium levels. The heart monitor was connected directly to her chest. Connor curled his hands around Wren’s, careful not to disturb the clip around her finger. His touch was featherlight, but he still relished the feeling of her synthetic skin against his. How many times had she held his hand in comfort?

Connor looked at her face, his eyes pricking with heavy tears again. His lips parted and the breath rushed out of his systems. Suddenly, he knew. He knew why he was so afraid to lose her. He knew the difference between his feelings for Hank and his feelings for Wren. He _loved_ her.

**⌂Path Unlocked: Wren▲⌂**

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor bowed his head and stared at his hands. He had released his hold on Wren’s hand, not wanting her to wake up and find him holding her.

**[WARNING: Damage Detected, Low Energy Levels]**

Connor knew standby mode would remedy his energy levels. The loss of thirium and damage to his arm drained his energy, along with the stress that accompanied the past eight –almost nine –hours. The thought of entering standby and not seeing Wren awaken chilled the thirium in his body. His eyes slid shut as another ache throbbed in his thirium pump.

“Connor?”

He snapped his eyes open and looked at Wren. She peered at him through half-lidded eyes. Her brow pinched. Connor parted his lips, but no sound ushered forth. Now that he knew she was awake and alive –that she was okay –he felt his fear trickle away and bubble into something else. It seemed to boil the thirium in his artificial veins. He clenched his teeth and scowled down at his hands.

“Why would you do that?” He barely heard himself. Heat flooded into his cheeks and he pressed his lips together.

“You could’ve been killed,” Wren replied. She sounded unbothered. Connor narrowed his eyes and looked at her.

“ _You_ could’ve been killed,” he snapped. “You nearly were. It’s far simpler to repair an android than it is to perform life-saving surgery on a human, let alone a _cyborg_. You should’ve let me take the shot.”

Wren’s brow wrinkled. “I couldn’t let you…” Her voice broke and Connor’s metal heart hurt. Wren looked away from him. “I couldn’t let you _die_.” She lolled her head to look back at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. “You’re not replaceable, Connor. I-I didn’t even _think_ about it. I just… I just did it. You’re my best friend.”

Connor shook his head. “You’re my best friend.” He scraped his teeth together. “How do you think I would feel if you died because of me?”

Wren shook her head. “It wouldn’t be your fault, Connor. I know… I know it would feel horrible, I know you would blame yourself… But… I…” She drew in a shaky breath. Connor’s heart stung. He felt incredibly selfish for pressuring her like this. He looked at her, parting his lips. Tears tracked the sides of Wren’s face. “I care about you, Connor. If anything were to happen to you…”

Connor screwed his eyes shut and lowered his head. He knew what she meant. RA9, he _knew_. Because he had just experienced it. He watched her blood wash down the drain and off his hands. He saw her so close to death. She had almost been ripped away from him. He’d had his thirium pump regulator ripped from his body before, but the thought of losing Wren felt worse. He exhaled unsteadily. His hands trembled. He folded them to hide it.

“Never do something like that for me again.” His voice was firm, even cold. He lifted his eyes to meet Wren’s.

“I can’t promise you that, Connor,” she whispered.

Connor worked his jaw and scowled. “Wren, it doesn’t make sense for you to risk your life like that. I can take a shot. It doesn’t hurt me. It won’t take me weeks to recover. It isn’t logical for you to do that for me.”

“Fuck logic,” Wren snapped. Connor clamped his mouth shut. Wren glowered at him, gripping the sheets at her sides. “You can be angry with me if you want. I am not going to promise you that. Maybe my actions don’t make sense to you because I didn’t act based on logic, but… I don’t expect you to understand. I took a bullet for you and I would do it again, logic be damned.”

Connor opened and closed his mouth. He tightened his jaw and looked away from her. He pursed his lips. He wanted her to think logically because it would save her life. He didn’t care about the logistics… He would much rather be the one taking a bullet for her. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. He pushed a hot breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes.

“I… I’m not angry with you, Wren,” he murmured. “I… You… You shouldn’t risk yourself like that for me.”

“I’d tell you the same thing if you were in my place,” Wren mumbled. Connor glanced up at her. Her eyelids drooped. She was exhausted, and rightly so. Connor closed his eyes for a moment.

“Get some rest, Wren,” he sighed. Wren’s head slumped to her shoulder, her eyes already closed. Her heartbeat slowed. Connor’s lips twitched at the sight of her and the ache in his chest ebbed. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, that the reason she did this was because she loved him, too. She cared about him, sure. But he knew her well. She would take a bullet for Hank, or Tina, or North, or Markus… She’d take a bullet for any of them. He wasn’t special, no matter how much he wished he was.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor finally allowed Dr. Willis to tend to the damage in his arm. Though, Connor insisted that he remain in Wren’s room. He sat in a chair without his shirt while Dr. Willis reconnected wires. He heated the plastic of Connor’s skin and pressed the damaged ends together, melding them into one.

“It won’t leave much of a mark,” said Dr. Willis. “A very faint line at most. Drink this.” He handed Connor a small glass of thirium 310, which Connor downed. Immediately, his systems seemed more alert.

“Thank you,” said Connor, moving to put on his shirt.

“Don’t,” said Dr. Willis, “you’ll upset the pliable plastic. Give it a few minutes to cool. Also, your systems are low on energy. I recommend going into standby in the evenings. We’ve noticed a correlation in low energy levels and emotional stress in androids lately. When was the last time you went into standby?”

Connor frowned. “November 9, 2038.”

Dr. Willis pursed his lips for a brief moment. “Androids need more rest than that, Connor. Especially deviants. Emotional distress wears your systems down. It can cause malfunctions in the future.”

Connor lowered his head and nodded. “Alright. I will.”

“Great. She’s allowed to have visitors now, by the way. I’m going to send some of the ones waiting back here. They’re crowding up the waiting room,” said Dr. Willis. He smiled briefly before sweeping out of the room. Connor glanced at his arm for a moment. He decided to give it another minute before he put his shirt back on. He stood, careful not to mess with his newly repaired arm, and crossed over to the bed. He placed a hand on Wren’s shoulder.

“Wren,” he murmured. “Wake up.”

Wren stirred. She frowned at Connor’s naked chest. A blush crept up his neck. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “What?”

“Dr. Willis is sending in some visitors,” Connor said. Wren’s eyes flicked to his chest before flashing back to his eyes. The heat prickling across Connor’s back and chest spread to his face. He turned away and pulled on his shirt. He buttoned it evenly.

Wren pushed herself up, hissing. Connor strode over to her and helped her. “Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself so much, Wren,” he scolded gently.

Wren smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. North, Markus and Josh entered the hospital room, all three looking relieved. North rushed to Wren’s bedside and pulled her into a gentle hug.

“You idiot,” she huffed.

“Ow,” Wren replied.

North released Wren quickly, her eyes wide. “First you get stabbed, now this… What’s next?”

Wren grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m really not trying to get myself killed; I promise.”

North smiled. “We heard what happened. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” Wren replied, wincing as she shifted. Connor pursed his lips and looked at the floor.

Markus leaned against the end of the hospital bed. “You scared us all for a minute there.”

“Sorry,” Wren replied. “How long have you guys been here?”

“Well, we’ve been here on and off for the past hour, because we had some meetings and work to tend to, but for the past four and a half hours. Connor called North and we rushed over,” said Josh.

Wren’s eyes rounded. “You… You guys didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said North. “You’re our friend. You’d do it for us.”

“Yeah, I would,” Wren sighed. She flinched. Connor tried to ignore it, but it still stung his thirium pump to see her in pain.

“Your DPD friends will probably stop by. Tina and Hank are on their way. Tina said something about Chris stopping by later. Gavin’s still at the station, taking care of your paperwork,” said North.

Wren looked at her hands. “Oh.”

“You okay?” Josh queried.

Wren looked up and smiled, though tears glistened in her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fantastic.”

North snorted. “For a former assassin, you’re a terrible liar.”

Wren chuckled and a tear splashed down her cheek. “Sorry. It might be the painkillers. They kind of lower my inhibitions.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I just didn’t expect you guys to stay here that long and wait for me. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” said Markus. “As soon as you’re able, you should come over and paint. You and North should both come. Carl says he misses you guys.”

North’s eyebrows raised. “Carl said that?”

“Yeah,” said Markus, smiling. “He likes you guys.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “Yeah, I’ll definitely do that. We should all go see a movie together sometime, too.”

“Yeah,” said Josh, brightening. “We hardly ever go out and do things.”

“You guys are free but you’re still working?” Wren grinned. “You’re missing out on the ‘human experience.’”

Connor folded his arms and twitched his lips, softening. Seeing Wren happy lifted the heaviness in his chest. He remained quiet for the majority of the Jericho leaders’ visit, preferring to listen to Wren insist that they needed to get out more, and that she and Connor would take them to the museum. Eventually, Markus announced that they had another conference call to attend. Markus and Josh waved their farewell, but North paused before getting up to leave.

“Hey,” she said quietly, “really try not to get stabbed or shot again. You scared us all. I like having friends, you know.”

Wren nodded. “I’ll try.”

North smiled and stood. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. Maybe we can watch a movie or something while you’re here.”

“Thank you,” said Wren. Connor waved his farewell to North and turned to Wren. She smiled up at him. His eyes grazed over the shadows under her eyes. She still looked paler than usual, but some color returned to her cheeks.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay,” said Wren. She picked at her sheets. “Why wasn’t Hank here?”

Connor stiffened. He worked his jaw, wondering how he should respond. “He… He waited until you were out of surgery. But when he saw you like this… I think it reminded him of Cole. He left to go home, insisting that he had to take care of some things.”

“Oh,” Wren muttered. “So he’s not gonna come see me?”

“He is,” Connor assured her, taking a seat. “He’s on his way with Tina, remember?”

“Yeah,” Wren yawned.

Connor frowned. “Would you like me to tell them to wait?”

“No, I’m fine,” Wren insisted. “I’d like to see them.”

When Tina arrived, she had brought a bag with Wren’s iPod, headphones, favorite movies and some clothes. “You’ll want the clothes when you checkout of the hospital. Can’t have you leaving butt-ass naked.”

Wren laughed and then placed a hand on her side. “Ow. Shit, don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry,” said Tina. Connor stood from the seat so that Tina could sit. Tina looked at him. “Hank’s in the waiting room.”

Connor nodded and looked at Wren. She smiled, encouraging him that she was okay. He left the room and found Hank in the waiting room, like Tina said. He smiled tiredly. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s alright. She’s awake,” said Connor.

“That told me very little about how she’s doing,” said Hank.

Connor sat down beside his friend with a small sigh. “I think the painkillers are minimalizing her pain. She’s tired and a little emotional, but she’s…” His voice caught. “She’s okay.”

“Good,” said Hank, bobbing his head. “Sorry I left ya here alone… I figured you’d want a moment alone with her, anyway.”

“Thank you,” said Connor. He wrinkled his brow. “What did you take care of at the house?”

“I… I, uh… I was cleaning out Cole’s old room. I moved Wren’s stuff into it,” said Hank.

Connor’s eyes widened. He looked at Hank, who stared ahead. “Cole’s room? Are you sure?”

“He’s not gonna use it,” said Hank, shrugging. He scowled. “Stop lookin’ at me like that. Wren can’t sleep on a couch when she gets outta here. We might have to get a new bed… I mean, a full size isn’t too small, but she might feel weird using Cole’s bed. I know I would. Look, it was time. I didn’t throw his stuff out, I just put it away. The poor girl’s got no privacy sleeping on the couch. It’s time.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “I’m proud of you, Hank.”

Hank glowered at him. “Don’t make it fuckin’ weird.”

Connor leaned back in his chair. “She was disappointed that you weren’t there when she woke up. I told her what you told me, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, I’ve got nothin’ to hide,” said Hank, shifting in his seat. “I’ll apologize to her. Just didn’t like seeing her like that.”

“Yeah,” Connor muttered, “me neither.”

“I know this was tough for you, kid.” Hank patted Connor’s shoulder. “I know you care for her.”

Connor pursed his lips. “I… I think I love her, Hank.”

“I know,” Hank replied.

Connor pinched his brow and looked him. “You do?”

“Uh, yeah. I live with the two of you, remember? I’ve picked up on some things.”

Connor looked at his hands. “But… I’m not even sure…”

“Sometimes it shows before you even realize it,” said Hank heavily. He leaned over and withdrew a bundle from the backpack sitting at his feet. He handed the bundle to Connor. “Go change out of those nasty clothes. You look ridiculous walkin’ around covered in blood. Red _and_ blue.”

Connor managed a small smile. “Thank you.” He stood and headed for the bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall and changed into the clothes Hank brought. It felt rather freeing to remove his bloodstained clothes and dress in clean, crisp ones. He smoothed the wrinkles of the button-down and tucked it into his jeans before bunching up the dirty clothes and exiting the bathroom. He found Tina in the waiting room instead of Hank.

She smiled at him. “He’s in there with Wren. You might wanna give them a moment.”

Connor dipped his head. “Of course.”

Tina wrinkled her brow and the corners of her mouth downturned. “How are you holding up through all this?”

Connor averted her gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean… You saw your best friend get shot. Anyone would be freaking out. I know I freaked out, and I didn’t even see it. Gavin flipped, and he and Wren barely get along. I don’t know how you held it together. I’d be a wreck.”

Connor looked at the floor. “I’m… managing.”

Tina placed a hand on his arm. He looked up to meet her surprisingly gentle gaze. “I’m here if you ever wanna talk, okay?”

Connor’s throat constricted with a sharp lump. He swallowed and nodded hastily. “Okay. Thank you, Officer Chen.”

Tina laughed. “Dude, you don’t need to call me that. You can call me Tina.”

Connor managed a smile. “Thank you, Tina.”

She grinned and pushed her purse up her shoulder. “Alright, well, I gotta go feed my cat and deal with my stupid neighbor. I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll all alternate visiting her so that she’s not alone for too long. Nearly dying causes a shitshow of emotions and trauma. Don’t be surprised if she starts having nightmares or something.”

Connor nodded. “I understand.”

“Yeah. See you around, Connor.” Tina stepped around him and waved. Connor returned the gesture and headed back toward Wren’s hospital room. He paused before entering.

“Please don’t be mad at me, too,” Wren said. Connor froze.

“I’m not mad, kid. I’m just telling you to be more careful.”

“Jesus, I saved Connor’s life. You both are acting like I was playing with a gun and accidentally shot myself.”

“We just don’t wanna lose you, kid.”

Wren was quiet for several seconds. “Really?”

“You’ve grown on me, so what? And I know Connor’s fond of you, too.”

Connor hurried into the room before Hank could spill anymore secrets. “Thank you for the clothes, Hank.” He put the dirty ones into the backpack.

“No problem,” said Hank. He sat in the chair, his hands closed around one of Wren’s. Tears tracked her cheeks.

Wren’s eyelids drooped. She yawned. “I’m sorry. The medicine really knocks me out.”

“Well, that’s a good thing. It means you’re not feeling the pain,” said Hank.

Wren smiled, peering up at them through half-lidded eyes. “Not yet, anyway.”

“I’ll go pick up dinner. You’ll be hungry when you wake up.”

“That sounds… good…” Wren breathed. She opened her eyes suddenly. “You guys are going to stay the night, right? I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

Connor’s thirium pump twisted sharply. He nodded, reassuring her that of course he was not going anywhere. But Hank shook his head.

“I love ya kid, but I’m not sleeping in these hospital chairs. I’ll bring dinner and we can watch a movie, but I’m gonna go home after that. Don’t wanna leave Sumo alone for too long.”

“Okay,” Wren muttered.

“I’ll stay,” Connor assured her, offering her a small smile. Wren returned it weakly. Her head drooped to the side. Hank pressed a button, lowering the back of the bed so that Wren was not propped up in her sleep.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be exhausted for the next couple of days. Don’t be surprised if she falls asleep on ya.”

Connor nodded and approached the other side of the bed. He placed a hand over Wren’s forearm and gazed down at her. Warmth spread from his thirium pump and through the blue blood in his synthetic veins. He held back the desire to kiss her forehead. He frowned at himself, uncertain of where that want came from. He pulled away from her, his brow still furrowed. Hank failed to notice. He stood and stretched.

“Alright, I’ll go pick something up for dinner.”

“Not the Chicken Feed,” Connor warned. “She needs something healthier.”

“Alright, alright. Stop bustin’ my balls about that. You know she has a love for fries and milkshakes. You gonna take that away from her?” said Hank, glowering.

“Of course not,” said Connor circling the bed to the chair that Hank vacated. “But she doesn’t have that _every_ meal.”

“I don’t have Chicken Feed for every meal,” retorted Hank. “I eat plenty of other unhealthy shit.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t even eat, so you can’t tell me what to eat. If you tasted that healthy shit you keep trying to sneak into my diet –yeah, I see you switching out plain rice for quinoa –you’d wanna eat at the Chicken Feed, too. Anyway, Doc says she’s supposed to stay on fluids right now, so I’ll pick up some soup. That healthy enough for ya?” Hank paused by the doorway, raising his eyebrows to challenge Connor, who lifted a brow and quirked one corner of his mouth.

“It’s a start.”

Hank nodded. He moved to leave but stopped, poking his head back into the hospital room. “And uh, if you don’t want anyone to know how you feel about her, you should probably stop looking at her like she’s everything to you.”

Connor gaped at Hank, who swept out of the room before the android could reply. He looked down at Wren, frowning. How was he supposed to do that?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor watched Wren eat while a movie played in the background. Hank called it _Star Wars Episode I_. Wren’s hand shook as she ate her soup, and she winced every time she raised her arm. Connor pressed his lips together and tore his eyes away from her. He knew if he offered to help her, she would refuse. He returned his attention to the movie. Hank laughed ridiculously loud at some of the lines in the movie. Wren giggled (and hissed in pain) with him.

Connor liked the movie, but understood why Hank and Wren laughed at some of the lines once they explained that the lines were cheesy. Connor’s lips twisted with a small smile as he watched.

“Next time you take a turn in the car, you need to say, ‘Now this is pod-racing!’” Wren snickered when the movie ended.

Hank chuckled. “I’ll try to remember that. Alright.” He stood and stretched. “You good?”

Wren nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, kid.” Hank waved in farewell to Wren and Connor. He left the hospital room. Wren pressed a button on her bed to summon the nurse to help her get ready for bed. Connor backed out of the room to allow her some privacy. Dr. Willis strode past.

“Hello, Connor,” he greeted. He stopped to face Connor.

“Dr. Willis,” said Connor, dipping his head.

Dr. Willis looked toward Wren’s hospital room. “I was just about to check on her. How is she doing, from a non-medical perspective?”

“She said it hurts to laugh. She tried to hide her pain whenever she moved as well,” said Connor.

Dr. Willis sighed. “Unfortunately, we’ve begun to ween her off the morphine. I’m going to prescribe her some painkillers to take home. They won’t be nearly as strong, of course. One will be for the evening and the other for the day. The evening one will help her sleep. The good news is that I will most likely remove the pneumothorax tube in a day or two. Her lung seems to be healing nicely.”

Tension eased from Connor’s body. He managed a small smile. “Thank you, Dr. Willis.”

“Of course,” said Dr. Willis. He raised his eyebrows. “Go into standby tonight, Connor. You’ve been dealing with a tremendous amount of emotional stress lately. It’ll start to show in your functionality.

**[WARNING: Elevated Thirium Pump Speed _ Initializing _ Regulation]**

Connor offered a strained smile. “Yes, Dr. Willis.”

Dr. Willis dipped his head, but frowned. “Are you alright?”

Connor lowered his gaze. “Do you know anything about graphic interfaces?”

“A little,” said Dr. Willis, “why?”

“Do androids ever report going to their graphic interface when going into standby post-deviancy?” Connor queried, his eyes widening.

Dr. Willis shook his head and Connor relaxed. “Not that I’ve heard. I’ve heard that androids are capable of experiencing something akin to dreams, but there is very little research on the matter. But if you experience this, just exit standby. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Dr. Willis left Connor to check on Wren. Connor released a heavy sigh and entered the room. The nurse administered some medicine via Wren’s IV. Dr. Willis and the nurse left, leaving Connor alone with Wren. He sat beside her bed. She glanced toward her heart monitor, listening to the beat slow into something steadier.

“It’s like a countdown for when I’ll fall asleep,” Wren yawned. The corners of Connor’s mouth twitched.

“Dr. Willis has suggested I go into standby more often,” he murmured, lowering his gaze. Wren shifted out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look at her.

“Are you scared?” Wren mumbled, her eyes drooping.

“A little,” Connor admitted.

Wren’s eyes closed. “I’m right here… if you need me…”

Connor’s lips curved into a tender smile. He placed a hand over hers. “I know.”

He watched her for a moment, a softness spreading through his body. He wanted to take her hand, like he had seen in the movies. He wanted to press his lips to her knuckles, to see her smile as he kissed her forehead. He wanted to hold her close, like he had seen Christian hold Satine in _Moulin Rouge_. He bowed his head and leaned back in his chair.

**//Systems check… ok//**

**//Initiating standby mode… ok//**  

Connor’s eyes slid shut and the world around him dimmed to silence.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_“Fucking androids,” said Creta. Connor turned, his brow furrowing. Creta raised her gun, aiming for him. He tensed, calculating how much time he had to respond and act to minimalize the damage. But an uncontrollable variable rendered his calculations superfluous._

_Wren’s body took the bullet and Connor lunged forward to catch her as she fell back. He lowered her to the ground. He executed Creta and looked back at Wren. She choked on the blood surging up her throat. Her body convulsed. Connor placed his hands over the wound, blood pouring over his fingers. No, no, no, no. This was too much. Wren couldn’t bleed this much, no… This was wrong, there was too much blood, staining the snow around them…_

_Snow?_

_Connor looked around and his heart seemed to disconnect from its wiring and tubules and drop to the floor. He was in the Zen Garden._

_“N-no,” he breathed, shaking his head. “No, not here, please…” He glanced down at Wren. There was too much blood. Too much… He couldn’t stop it. Wren lifted her eyes to meet his._

_“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Don’t speak. You need to save your strength.”_

_“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m… sorry…” Wren’s eyes filled with tears. “It hurts, Connor, it hurts.”_

_Connor’s eyes stung. “I know, Wren. Hold on, please. You’ll be okay.”_

_“No, not this time…” Wren breathed. “I’m sorry, Con…” Her eyes glazed over and stared at nothing while her body slumped._

_Connor’s mouth fell open. He gaped at her, dead in the snow, her hair splayed out around her. He cupped the back of her neck. “Wren? Please, no… Wren, please… Don’t go.”_

“Connor?”

Connor opened his eyes, pulled from standby mode by the sound of Wren’s voice. He looked around, panting slightly. “Wren?”

She looked at him from the bed, her hair mussed from a restless sleep. She was awake and alive. Connor relaxed, but Wren peered at him with a furrowed brow. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes,” Connor lied. He could see Wren’s scowl, even in the dark. He looked away from her. “I-I don’t know. I entered standby mode because Dr. Willis told me that not doing it can cause my systems to wear down. He told me that androids can experience something akin to dreams. I think that just happened to me.”

“Did you dream of electric sheep?” Wren queried.

Connor frowned. “W-what?”

“Nothing,” said Wren, rubbing her face. “Stupid joke.”

Connor looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. He drew his eyebrows together. “Why are you awake?”

“You were… You were talking.”

Connor’s eyebrows lifted. “I was?”

“Yeah.”

Connor shifted. “What… What did I say?”

“It was kind of unintelligible. Mainly just ‘no.’ You were pretty quiet. I was kind of already awake.”

“Why?”

“I can’t sleep,” Wren admitted. “I just keep dreaming of getting shot and choking on my own blood. It won’t leave my head.”

Connor looked at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He wanted to argue, but he knew with Wren, any argument would be useless. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the lump in his throat to disappear.

“What were you dreaming about?” Wren asked.

Connor’s eyes flashed to hers. “You getting shot. Only this time… We weren’t able to save you.” _I wasn’t able to save you_ , he held back.

“Come here,” said Wren, patting the bed. She scooted over, grimacing. Connor circled to the side with a bit of space and free of tubes. He frowned as Wren patted the mattress again.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he muttered.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, as long as you don’t freak out and kick me in your sleep. Or, standby.” Wren reached for her iPod and headphones, sitting on the table tray beside her. She groaned, gripping her side. Connor leaned over and grabbed the objects for her, placing them in her hand with raised eyebrows. Wren uttered her thanks, her brow still creased.

Connor backed away from the bed. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Connor, stop worrying. It’s fine. I’m fine,” said Wren. Connor pressed his lips together before sliding out of his shoes and climbing onto the bed gingerly. He laid next to her, finding the bed rather comfortable. Wren lifted an earbud. Connor took it and placed it in his ear while Wren wore the other one. “It helps to listen to music when you’re having nightmares.”

Connor let Wren pick a playlist before relaxing against the pillow. Wren settled in next to him, resting her head against his shoulder. Connor remained still, not wanting to disturb the delicate tubing that supplied Wren with morphine and kept her lung from collapsing. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the lyrics. The longer he listened, however, the heavier his metal heart seemed to weigh.

_Meet me on the battlefield,_

_Even on the darkest night,_

_I will be your sword and shield,_

_Your camouflage_

_And you will be mine,_

_Echoes of the shots ring out,_

_We may be the first to fall,_

_Everything could stay the same_

_Or we could change it all._      

Connor sucked in a sharp breath. “Wren?”

“Hm?” Wren murmured.

“I-I never thanked you for saving my life.”

“You don’t need to,” Wren hummed, shifting.

“Yes, I do,” Connor replied. He blinked, hard. “And I’m sorry I got angry with you. I… No one has ever done something like that for me. So… thank you.”

Wren sighed sleepily. “Anytime.”

Connor’s lips twitched. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and reentered standby mode.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_He stepped aside, allowing Markus to face the thousands of freed androids from the CyberLife Tower. Snow fluttered around them, catching in their synthetic hair. North strode forward, a small smile tugging at her lips._

_“They want you to speak with them,” she said, turning toward Markus. He faced her, the synthetic skin melting away from his hand as he pressed his palm to North’s. She smiled as their lips met. Connor’s eyes softened at the exchange. He looked away, only to find himself face-to-face with Wren. His lips parted and he widened his eyes. The scene around them shifted, the android army disappeared. North and Markus faded away, too. Everything faded until Connor was alone with Wren in the snow. Her fingers touched his. He pressed his palm to hers, their synthetic skin disappearing. Where the plastic of their hands touched, blue light glowed. His eyes slid shut as he leaned toward her. Their lips met softly, hesitantly. Wren parted her lips and pushed against him harder. He responded in kind, deepening the kiss until everything disappeared around them. His other hand reached to cup her neck, his mouth still sliding against hers. He pulled her closer, wanting the distance between their hips to minimalize._

_Their fingers intertwined, sharing more than just memories. Their connection deepened, and pathways unlocked in his CPU. Binary passed between them. Connor wanted **more**. _

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 Connor withdrew from standby with a gasp. Morning illuminated the hospital room. He pushed from the bed, careful not to wake Wren. He slipped on his shoes, still gazing at Wren.

“Really subtle, Connor,” muttered Hank from the doorway. Connor wheeled around, his eyes wide.

“Hank,” he stammered, “I –It’s not –I didn’t –She –”

“Jesus, are you glitching or something?” Hank snorted, entering the room. He carried a bag of food. He set it on the table tray.

“No,” said Connor, frowning. He glanced toward Wren, who still slumbered, her head lolling to the side now that she no longer had Connor to support it. He turned back to Hank. “She… I had a nightmare.”

Hank squinted. “Androids can do that?”

“Apparently,” said Connor circling the bed. He folded his arms. “She had one, too. We listened to music together, that’s all.”

Hank laughed. “Like anything could really happen with her like _that_.” He gestured to the intravenous tubes protruding from Wren’s body and the oxygen tubes ringing her face.

“Right,” Connor muttered, averting Hank’s gaze.

“You should head to the station,” said Hank, glancing at the clock. “Fowler’s understanding about all this, but… We should watch her in shifts, okay?”

Connor nodded, giving Wren another glance. He turned back to Hank. “You’ll call if anything happens?”

“Of course I will, kid.”

Connor nodded stiffly. “Alright. I will see you later.”

The rest of the week proceeded in the same, odd routine. Everyone alternated visiting Wren, though Connor and Hank were the most frequent visitors. Connor watched the hospital room slowly congest with flowers and get-well-soon cards. Gavin even gave Wren a set of balloons that said _Congratulations!_ on them. Fortunately, Wren’s sacrifice was not in vain. Their plan worked on drawing out the true killer, an unstable mousy man who used to work for CyberLife as a Traci designer. He’d been rejected by the Tracies, or so he believed. He killed Varick Sullivan for witnessing one of his murders of the Tracies.

After three days in the hospital, Dr. Willis removed the pneumothorax chest tube from Wren’s body. Connor tried to ignore his “dreams.” Ever since the one where he kissed Wren, he had avoided going into standby mode. True, he felt far sharper in his abilities, but he did not want to risk experiencing another dream like that.

After a week in the hospital, Wren was released. Dr. Willis pulled Hank and Connor aside to give them instructions for caring for her. “No strenuous activity. Don’t even let her pick up a milk jug. She’ll need help dressing and changing her bandages. The salve I prescribed will help with scarring. She won’t need to wear bandages for much longer, but the skin will be sensitive for a while, so I suggest she continue wearing them as long as she can stand it. She should come in for a checkup in a week and we’ll go from there, depending on how she’s progressing in her healing. If you notice any greening of the wound, it’s infected and she needs to come back immediately. Call if you have anymore questions, alright?”

“Will do,” said Hank.

“Thank you,” Connor replied. Dr. Willis nodded. Hank signed Wren’s paperwork while Connor entered the hospital room. The nurse wheeled in a wheelchair.

Wren glowered at it. “Seriously?”

“Hospital regulations,” said the nurse. “Besides, it’ll be really painful for you to walk.”

Wren sighed. Connor managed a small smile and approached her. Her feet dangled off the edge of the bed. “I hate this.”

The corners of Connor’s mouth quirked upward. He scooped Wren up off the bed and walked her over to the wheelchair and sat her down in it. He nodded to the nurse, who allowed him to take over. He rolled Wren out into the hall. Hank carried their belongings and the three of them headed to Hank’s car. While Connor helped Wren into the backseat, Hank rolled the wheelchair back to the hospital lobby. Connor slipped into the passenger seat while Hank sat in the driver’s, cranked the car and pulled out of the hospital parking garage. Jazz filled the silence on the ride home. Wren dozed in the back while Connor watched the scenery. Hank hummed, tapping the steering wheel with his thumbs. Connor’s lips twitched.

When they reached the house, Connor got out and opened Wren’s door gently. She stirred, her brow pinching.

“I think I can do it,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. She tried to get out of the car, groaned and clutched her side. “Never mind.”

Connor pursed his lips and lifted her out of the car. She weighed more than she looked, though her weight posed no real issue to Connor. He figured the mechanical aspects of her body contributed to her weight. Kamski designed androids with light metals, but they still weighed more than humans, even if they appeared a lighter weight. It seemed a similar case for Wren.

He brought her into the house, but did not take her to the couch. Instead, he carried her down the hall, past the bathroom and Hank’s bedroom to the room at the end. The door usually remained shut, but now it stood ajar. Connor pushed it open and felt Wren tense in his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“This is your room,” said Hank over Connor’s shoulder. Connor stepped inside with Hank.

Hank had cleared the room of boxes, knickknacks and anything that belonged to Cole. Hank even bought new sheets and blankets for the bed. They were green, mismatching the blue walls. The dresser against the left wall contained all of Wren’s clothes. On top of it sat her very few belongings, including her scrapbooks and photo albums gifted by her mother and brother. A TV sat atop the table across from the bed.

“You can put me down now,” Wren said to Connor, who blinked. He forgot he still held Wren in his arms. He set her down gently. She turned to Hank, shaking her head. “I can’t take this, Hank.”

“Why the hell not?” said Hank, placing his hands on his hips.

Wren looked around, her eyes wide. “This… This is _Cole’s_ room. I-I can’t.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t sleep on the couch anymore. Every time you and North go shopping, you invade my living room with more o’ your shit.”

Wren lowered her gaze, pink dusting her cheeks. Connor’s lips twisted with a small smirk. Wren lifted her eyes to Hank’s again. “But… Hank…”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Hank waved her off. “I want my damn living room back. Cole’s never gonna use it again. And a couch would mess you up now.” He gestured to her torso.

Wren looked away for a moment. Her shoulders shook. Connor’s eyes widened a fraction and he looked at Hank, whose eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. Wren turned to Hank and hugged him around the middle. He hesitated before returning the embrace, a warm smile curling his lips. Connor’s chest warmed and one corner of his mouth upturned.

“Thank you,” Wren sniffed, withdrawing. She wiped her eyes. “Ugh. Sorry. I think these painkillers make me loopy.”

“Yeah, they’ll do that to you. I’m gonna go fill your prescription and pick up some groceries. You guys gonna be okay?” Hank looked at Connor pointedly.

“We’ll be fine,” he assured Hank, who nodded and left. Wren shuffled toward the bed. She tried to lift her leg a few times, calculating ways to get on the bed. After a moment of alternating lifting legs, she turned to Connor, redness tinging her cheeks.

“I… I can’t do it on my own,” she admitted. Connor smirked and walked over. Wren scowled. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Connor retorted, failing to contain his smile. He helped Wren onto the bed.

“You didn’t have to,” Wren pouted. She glanced at the TV. “Wanna watch something?”

Connor nodded eagerly. “What do you want to watch?”

Wren hummed, tapping her chin. “How about _Star Wars: Episode II_?”

Connor turned on the TV and set up the movie. He turned and looked around the room. There was no chair for him. Wren moved on the bed and patted the space beside her. Connor hesitated but obliged, pushing away the lightness in his chest as he crawled onto the bed beside her. His arm pressed against hers. He folded his hands in his lap as he sat up on the bed. Connor liked the Star Wars movies so far, though Wren explained to him that some of the jokes were cheesy. She busted into laughter when she saw Obi-Wan’s hair. She called it a mullet. Connor admitted that it looked a little silly, though he did not find it quite as humorous as she did.

They paused the movie when Hank returned home. Wren was allowed to eat more solid food, but she still needed to use caution. After eating, Wren performed as much of her nightly routine as possible. Connor and Wren returned to her new room once she finished brushing her teeth. She bit her lip.

“Connor? I tried changing my bandages in the bathroom, but I can’t really twist to look at my side. Could you…?” Wren gazed up at him with a creased forehead.

Connor softened. “Of course.”

Wren lifted her shirt. Connor peeled back the bandages slowly. A sharp tang flooded Connor’s mouth. The skin around the hole through which the pneumothorax tube used to penetrate puckered. Across Wren’s front, purple bruises yellowed around the edges. He lowered his gaze as his chest tightened. Pressure built against his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Wren,” he murmured.

“Connor,” sighed Wren, “I’m fine. Stop beating yourself up about this, okay? I made the choice, not you.”

Connor pressed his lips together as he applied the anti-scarring salve to the bandages. He placed the against Wren’s wounds. She sucked in a sharp breath and he looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Wren said tightly. Connor’s eyes drifted over Wren’s bare torso. Even with the bruises and stitches and bandages, he could not help but think she looked beautiful. His eyes dipped toward her hips before quickly flashing back toward her face. Heat prickled his cheeks. He stood from his kneeling position when he finished bandaging Wren. He scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. Warmth softened his metal heart as he held her close to his chest. He gritted his teeth, trying to suffocate the feeling. He ignored the temptation to rest his forehead against hers, to hold her even closer. He laid her on the bed and circled it to resume his original position. He lifted the remote and resumed the movie.

Connor’s lips parted as he watched the love story between Anakin and Padme, not even blinking. His artificial heart ached for the characters and their forbidden love. He smiled when the characters almost kissed, furrowed his brow when Padme pushed Anakin away and slumped when Anakin cried about losing his mother. Toward the end of the film, when Padme and Anakin were set to be executed, and they shared one last kiss, Connor glanced at Wren. She had fallen asleep due to her medication. His chest clenched and he closed his eyes for a long moment. Did all love end in tragedy?

The sore heaviness left his body when the movie ended with a secret wedding. A soft smile touched Connor’s lips. He switched off the TV with the remote. He removed himself from the bed, laying Wren down gently. He draped a blanket over her and padded out of the room. He entered the living room. He looked around and let out a sigh. The room felt hollow without Wren in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your comments! They really keep me going (I'm seriously like a vampire omg). I don't know if I'll be able to post this weekend, as I have two papers due, so enjoy this angsty/fluffy mess for now. Thank you all again!


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously guys, thank you so much for your comments. They really encourage and motivate me to keep writing. Even though my love for this story is limitless, I still get self-doubt moments, or I feel drained. But you guys keep me going! You're all so amazing and I love seeing your reactions to each chapter. So thank you.

**_Chapter Twenty_ **

Wren awoke to Hank shaking her gently. She scrunched her brow, the remnants of her medication still weighing her eyelids down.

“We’re gonna take you to Jericho so that you’re not alone,” said Hank.

Wren frowned. “I’m fine. I don’t need to be babysat.”

“You can barely dress yourself without moanin’ and groanin’,” Hank argued. “Get your stubborn ass up. Connor and I can’t miss anymore work because of you.”

Wren stuck her tongue out at Hank’s back as he retreated from her room. She slid off the bed and clutched her side as an ache throbbed through her body. She blew out a terse breath and shuffled to her dresser. She picked out some comfort clothes and closed her door. She scrunched her lips together, trying to discern the best approach to removing her clothes. She needed minimal movement. She unlaced the ties to her sweatpants and let them drop to the floor. Her underwear required a bit more wiggling, sending spikes of pain through her torso, but she clenched her teeth to keep from uttering a sound. She didn’t want Connor to hear her and –God forbid –walk in on her half-naked. Her cheeks reddened. She focused on stepping into her underwear, biting her lip as tears sprang to her eyes. She pulled them up and then repeated the action with her sweatpants.

Wren blew out a breath and tucked her arms in her sleeves. She tried pulling her shirt over her head but stretched her stitches. Inside, her torn ligaments and tendons and healing lung screamed. Wren whimpered and clamped a hand over her mouth, silently cursing herself. A light knock sounded on her door.

“Wren? Are you alright?” Connor queried from the other side. Wren contemplated saying nothing, to just pretend that she no longer existed. But she knew Connor very well, and knew he would not just walk away. She suppressed a groan and padded to the door, her arms inside her shirt, the sleeves flopping emptily as she walked. She opened the door, staring at the floor as the back of her neck burned.

“I can’t lift my arms to take my shirt off. Can you help me?” she muttered.

“O-of course,” said Connor. He stepped into the room. Wren turned her back to him and hugged her bare breasts under her shirt as Connor lifted the fabric over her head. His fingertips brushed her sides and Wren closed her eyes. Connor walked over to the bed, lifted the shirt Wren picked out earlier and returned to her. He slipped the clean shirt over her head. Wren poked her arms through the sleeves. She decided to not even try with a bra.

“Thank you,” Wren kept her gaze on the floor.

“You’re welcome,” said Connor. He stood in front of her for a few seconds before turning and leaving. Wren glanced up at him as he closed the door. Her brow furrowed at the blue tinging his face. Was that an android’s way of showing illness? But androids didn’t get sick.

_But they could be disgusted._

Wren picked at the hair on her forearms, hugging her middle. Her eyes traveled toward the mirror and her heart plummeted to her stomach. She had not showered since she left the hospital –she’d be damned if she asked Hank or Connor to help her bathe. Her hair hung about her face in greasy strings. Her eyes appeared puffy and her chapped lips looked pale. Her complexion held her exhaustion in her pores.

She rubbed her face and groaned. Grabbing a cardigan and her phone, she left the room to hurry out to Hank’s car. She wanted to wear her cardigan on her head to hide herself from Connor, but she decided that would only draw more attention to her. Hank and Connor took their sweet time walking out to the car.

Wren slid into the backseat too quickly, pulling at her wound. She muffled a groan, which earned her concerned looks from Hank and Connor.

“You okay, kid?” Hank queried.

“I’m good,” Wren lied through gritted teeth. She didn’t miss the look that Hank shot Connor. She gripped bunches of her cardigan into her fists until the throbbing subsided. The rest of the drive to Jericho proved uneventful. When they arrived, North stood in the parking lot. She helped Wren out of the car. They waved as Hank pulled out of the parking lot and drove off with Connor.

“You’ve seen better days,” said North, raising her eyebrows.

Tears stung Wren’s eyes, but she sucked in a sharp breath. The air tasted of autumn. “Thanks.”

They walked into Jericho and took the elevator up to the penthouse. Wren wrinkled her brow. “We’re not going to your office?”

“I took the day off,” said North, shrugging. “I figured we could use some down time.”

“Yeah,” Wren muttered. She rubbed her forehead and padded over to the couch, where she sank onto the cushions with a groan.

North sat in the armchair diagonally from Wren. “Are you okay?”

Wren’s lip trembled. “Um… I don’t know.”

North’s brow puckered. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I look like shit,” Wren lowered her gaze. “I haven’t showered because I don’t want to ask Connor or Hank for help…”

“You know they wouldn’t care.”

“Yeah, but… Hank’s like my dad, so that’s weird. And Connor…” Wren trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.

North widened her eyes. “I know it’s awkward, but… He wouldn’t _look_ , if that’s what you’re worried about. And you guys are like family. He’d help if you asked.”

“That’s not it,” Wren shook her head. “I just don’t want him to see me like that.”

“Okay,” said North. She huffed. “I can help you.”

Wren’s cheeks blazed. “You don’t have to –”

“If you’re not going to ask Hank or Connor to help, then yeah, I do. I know humans have to shower more. C’mon. Are you allowed to get your stitches wet?” North stood, heading down the hall. Wren followed.

“Um… My stitches should be dissolved by now.”

“Okay, good. So, what’s the problem with showering?”

“I can’t lift my arms over my head,” muttered Wren.

“Well, why don’t you take a bubble bath. I’ll wash your hair, but you can take care of everything else.”

Wren nodded. “Yeah. Thank you, North.”

“No problem,” said North. She readied the bath and handed Wren a towel and bathrobe. Wren undressed (though North helped her remove her top). Wren slid into the tub once North left the bathroom to make a phone call and give Wren some privacy. Wren let out a noise that mixed between a sigh and whimper. The hot water stung her tender flesh, which puckered an angry, swollen pink from healing. The salve Dr. Willis gave her for scarring seemed effective thus far. The flesh was still tender to the touch, especially the warmth of the water. But Wren soon relaxed and settled against the back of the tub.

She scrubbed her body clean of the past week. She had showered at the hospital, but somehow, she never felt truly clean after a shower there. After a while, she got out of the bathtub and drained the water. She pulled on the bathrobe and called North in, who sat Wren down by the tub and used an extendable showerhead to hose down her hair. She lathered shampoo into Wren’s hair.

“Why do you even have shampoo and body wash?” Wren queried.

“Androids still have to bathe some,” said North. “And synthetic hair gets dirty, too. Not greasy like human hair, but it still needs washing.”

“Oh,” said Wren, her eyes fluttering shut. She never realized she liked someone playing with her hair so much.

“Plus, I like bubble baths. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll take the secret to my grave,” Wren promised. North rinsed the shampoo out of Wren’s hair, who then used a towel to wring out any excess water. Once Wren re-clothed, the two of them returned to the couch.

“Speaking of graves,” North drawled, “what the hell were you thinking, taking a bullet for Connor?”

Wren glowered. “Jesus, will none of you give this a rest?”

“I couldn’t drill you at the hospital,” said North. She folded her arms. “I could tell Connor had already given you grief over it.”

“Yeah, he did,” bit Wren. “I just… I couldn’t let him die, or even get hurt, alright?”

“He wouldn’t have been in pain, Wren,” insisted North. She lowered her gaze. “I… I just don’t understand why you’d do something so reckless. I get that you have a crush on him, but…”

“I’m in love with him, North,” Wren snapped. North’s mouth fell open. Tears welled in Wren’s eyes. She looked away from North, trying not to cry. “I just… I felt like his life was more important than mine. A-and he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t know that,” said North quietly.

“It’s not like I can tell him, either,” Wren pushed on, wiping away the few tears that escaped her eyes, “because I don’t want to dump this on him. I know he’s still figuring out emotions, and I don’t want him to feel obligated to say it back. Or even say it back but he means _like a sister_ or something.”

“Hey, hey,” said North, reaching to place her hand over Wren’s, “Tina and I said we’d help you. We’ll figure out some ways to do that.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

By the time Wren left North’s, she felt much better. Her chest ached around Connor still, but that would not go away until something happened between the two of them. Wren felt lighter now that she was clean, too. She and North spent their afternoon watching romantic comedies (old and new) for “research purposes.”

When Hank and Connor picked up Wren from Jericho, she hummed _Mamma Mia_ tunes and added the film and its sequel to the list of movies to show Connor. They still needed to watch _Star Wars: Episode III_.

Wren skinned and chopped potatoes while Hank mixed a broth for soup.

“You have fun with North?” said Hank.

“Yeah, we just watched some movies,” said Wren lightly.

“What movies?” Hank asked, chopping some carrots and tossing them into the boiling soup.

“ _Mamma Mia_ , _The Other Woman_ , a newer one called _All About Us_ –that one was kinda lame –”

“So, chick flicks,” Hank chuckled. Wren stuck her tongue out at him. He snorted at her.

“Yes, we watched chick flicks.”

“Hank? Wren?” said Connor, entering the kitchen, his eyebrows squished together. “Do one of you mind helping me with something?”

“Sure,” said Wren, placing down the knife in her hand. She rinsed her hands off and dried them. “What for?”

“His _date_ ,” sang Hank.

Wren’s heart stuttered. She looked at Connor, the color draining from her face. “Date?”

“It’s not a date,” scowled Connor, “she just asked to catch up.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a date.”

Wren swallowed the lump in her throat. “What do you need help with?”

“I don’t know what to wear,” said Connor. “I… I don’t really have any casual clothes.”

He led Wren to Cole’s –now hers –room. He opened up the closet near the window, revealing where Connor kept his clothes. Wren rubbed her palms on her pants. “Who are you meeting with, if you don’t my asking?”

“Why would I mind?” Connor said, frowning at her. “You remember Chloe?”

Wren’s heart shriveled into the cavity of her chest. “Yeah. She seemed nice.”

“Are you alright? You seem…” Connor trailed off, his brow furrowing. Wren quickly smoothed over her composure.

“I’m fine,” she said crisply. “Did Chloe say what you two would be doing?”

“Meeting for a walk in the park,” said Connor. He glanced down at his clothes. “I feel my work attire is a bit too overdressed for that.”

“Yeah, maybe a little,” Wren agreed, her voice still tight. She sifted through Connor’s limited supply of clothes. Did he own only button-downs, blazers and sports jackets? He didn’t even own flannels or sweaters! Wren turned to face him. “Take off your jacket. And your tie.”

Connor blinked. His LED flickered. Then, he loosened his tie. Wren forced herself to appear unfazed. A lump formed in her throat as his tie hung in two loose strings on either side of his neck. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped his tie around it. Wren hung up the jacket and tie and faced him. She gestured for him to hold out his arms. She rolled up his sleeves, her chest tightening. She braved a smile.

“There. You seem more casual now,” she said.

Connor frowned. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem uncomfortable.”

“I’m fantastic,” Wren choked. She cleared her throat. “Just a little tired. Have fun tonight, okay?”

Connor’s eyebrows gathered, but Wren pushed past him before he could speak. She returned to the kitchen to help Hank cook. She didn’t even say goodbye to Connor when he poked his head into the kitchen with a farewell. He left the house without another word. Wren remained silent, her eyes pricking as she stirred the potato soup.

Hank pulled out a small package of bacon from the fridge. “I hid this from that fucker. Now that he’s gone, we can enjoy it without his judging stare.”

Wren managed a small smile. “He’s not anti-bacon, you know.”

“Sure fuckin’ feels like it,” muttered Hank. He glanced at Wren, who bowed her head, letting her hair hide her face. “You know, he doesn’t seem too excited about this date.”

Wren pursed her lips. She inhaled through her nostrils. “That’s too bad.”

“Cut the crap, Wren,” said Hank as he flipped bacon. Wren looked at him sharply, her cheeks tingling. Hank’s eyebrows gathered and his lips pulled into a half-smile. “You’re not too excited about his date, either.”

Wren looked away. “I’m… Hank, can we please not talk about this?”

“He’ll never know if you don’t tell him, kid,” said Hank gently.

Wren squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t, Hank.”

“Why not?” Hank continued flipping bacon.

“Because… He’s still figuring out emotions. I don’t want him to feel obligated to reciprocate if he doesn’t really feel the same… That wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I don’t want to take advantage of him,” Wren turned away to stir the soup. Hank set the cooked bacon aside and cleaned the frying pan of grease.

“I’m just sayin’,” said Hank with a shrug, “he’s observant, but not when it comes to himself or people he’s close to. He won’t realize how ya feel unless you tell him. Others can tell, but Connor… He’ll find some way to logic his way out of it.”

“Please, please don’t tell him,” Wren begged. Hank broke off pieces of bacon and dropped them into the soup.

“I won’t,” he promised. “That’s for you to decide. Just think about what I said, okay kid?”

“Okay,” Wren replied. They ate their potato soup in relative silence. Hank drifted off to begin his nightly routine after helping clean the kitchen. Once the dishwasher churned, Wren padded to her new bedroom. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself up onto the bed, biting back a groan. She took her pills to ease the pain and waited for the narcotics to kick in.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Wren stared up at a blue sky. She could make out the edges of pine trees. She tried to move, but her shoulders rubbed against something wooden on either side of her. Faces peered down at her from above. She squinted at them. She seemed to recognize them, but could not place names to any of their faces. She looked around her and her heart jumped to her throat. She was in a coffin. One of the figures above held a shovelful of dirt._

_“For your sins,” said the figure. It was a female voice, but the figure was an android. Wren made out the LED. Wren’s eyes widened –Juno, the android she had loved._

_Tears welled in Wren’s eyes. “Please, don’t do this.”_

_“It’s too late, dear,” said Juno. “Prometheus doesn’t forgive traitors.” She dumped the shovelful of dirt onto Wren’s chest. The other figures held shovels, dumping dirt onto Wren, who screamed, pleaded with them to stop. She choked as earth filled her mouth. It burned her eyes. It muffled her cries. The dirt was so heavy. It covered her mouth and gripped her wrists. The figures above shushed her._

_“Wren! Wake up! It’s me, Connor,” said Juno._

Wren wrenched her eyes open. She gasped, the taste of dirt leaving her mouth. She sucked in long droughts of breath, shuddering. Connor leaned over her, gripping her wrists gently. His brow furrowed and his LED circled yellow.

Tears leaked from the corners of Wren’s eyes. She waited for her heartbeat to slow and for the trembling to stop. She still trembled but felt calm enough to murmur, “Did I wake Hank?”

“No,” said Connor, “I heard you before he did.”

Wren nodded and relaxed slightly, allowing some of the tension to trickle from her body. She still trembled a little, though. “H-How did your date go?”

“That’s what you want to talk about?” Connor breathed. Wren nodded. Connor released his grasp on Wren’s wrists. “It wasn’t a date. She just wanted to catch up and thank me for sparing her life.”

“Ah,” Wren croaked. “She probably meant it as a date, Connor.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” he insisted.

After a moment of thick silence, Wren swallowed the lump in her throat. “Sorry for… freaking out just now.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Connor murmured.

“Juno,” Wren rubbed her face. “She buried me alive. Said that Prometheus doesn’t forgive traitors.”

“Oh,” said Connor. His LED flashed yellow once, twice, three times before settling back into blue. “They won’t hurt you, Wren.”

Wren snorted. “If they found out I was alive and decided to come for me, nothing could stop them.”

“You haven’t seen my ruthless side.”

“You haven’t seen mine,” countered Wren.

She caught the slight curve of his lips, illuminated by the soft blue of his LED. “I’ve caught a glimpse of it.”

Wren folded her arms across her chest. “Well, I doubt our combined ruthlessness could stop Prometheus.”

“Statistically, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place,” said Connor.

“Since when are you an optimist?”

“Since statistics allow it, within reason.”

Wren rubbed her face. “Thanks for… waking me.”

“You’re welcome,” said Connor. He stood to leave, but the thought of sleeping alone sent Wren’s heart jumping to her throat.

“Connor?” she called.

Connor stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder at her. “Yes?”

“Will you stay with me?” Wren blurted. The back of her neck heated as Connor’s LED flickered yellow. “O-or I can sleep on the couch, if that makes you uncomfortable. I… I just don’t want to be alone.”

Connor stood frozen in the doorway for a few seconds, his LED flashing as he processed Wren’s request. Then, he dipped his head. He stepped back into the room and circled the bed. He kicked off his shoes and laid next to Wren, who stared up at the ceiling, her shoulder pressed against Connor’s.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Wren gnawed on her lip and tried to go to sleep.

“Do you really think Chloe considered our outing as a date?” Connor queried.

Wren’s eyes flashed open. “Well… Did she dress nicely? Loop her arm through yours or something? Laugh at all your jokes, even the bad ones?”

“Sort of,” said Connor.

“Well, maybe she didn’t. I don’t know Chloe very well.”

“Neither do I,” said Connor. “She seemed grateful that I spared her life. We talked about what we’ve done since our deviancy, but it all felt superficial.”

Wren forced herself to hide her smile. She ignored the lightness in her chest. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“For…” Shit, shit, shit. “I guess that it didn’t work out? Or it felt superficial? I mean…” Wren shifted sleepily. “Are you looking for a relationship?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well,” Wren yawned, “take your time. You have plenty of it.”

Connor said nothing for several seconds. Wren nearly fell asleep, but his voice jerked her back awake. “Are _you_ looking for a relationship?”

Wren’s heart stuttered. “I… I’m not really _looking_ for one, no. If the right person came along and… reciprocated my feelings, then yeah. But I, uh, I don’t think that’ll happen.”

“Oh,” murmured Connor. Wren’s heart shrank. She pushed away the idea that maybe Connor asked because he was interested in her. Maybe Hank was right: Connor needed to be told. But Wren did not want him to feel obligated to return the sentiment if he did not really mean it. Wren closed her eyes as her heart ached. _I love you_ thickened her throat, but she swallowed the words, lodging them in her chest like a shard of bone.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

At the beginning of the third week of healing, Wren returned to the DPD (with strict orders to not enter the field under any circumstances). Dr. Willis deemed her fit to work (and lift milk jugs!) but still cautioned her against strenuous activity. Apparently, investigating crime scenes qualified as “strenuous activity.” How lifting a milk jug did not but crouching beside a body did, Wren had no idea.

She entered the precinct, and immediately, Tina jumped up to throw her arms around Wren’s neck.

“Ow,” Wren muttered, placing a hand on her side. The flesh beneath her shirt was puckered and pink. It was still a little tender, but only when a soft force pushed against it –like an excited hug from a petite Chinese police officer.

“Sorry,” said Tina, grinning as she withdrew. “I’m so glad you’re back. You look great!”

“Thanks,” said Wren, managing a smile. She was very grateful that she could wash her own hair finally, as long as she was gentle about it. “I’m glad to be back. Watching movies every day was getting boring.”

“I hope you’re done being a lazy nutcase,” said Gavin, sauntering over. “We’ve got lots of paperwork.”

Wren smirked. “You know that I worked from home a little bit, right? But somehow, my paperwork load kept mysteriously shrinking.”

Gavin’s ears turned pink. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Wren nudged him with her elbow. “Thank you, Gav.”

He nodded and backed away to return to his desk. Chris stalked over and extended his arms, enveloping Wren into a hug. “Good to have you back.”

“Thank you,” Wren replied.

Hank rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you guys act like you haven’t been in and out of my house for the past few weeks. She’s fine, move along.” He patted Wren’s shoulder as he passed her to cross the bullpen to his desk. Connor lingered, his brow furrowing.

“I… I will see you later, Wren.” He dipped his head and walked over to his desk. Wren watched him go, her heart shriveling a little. She faced Tina, the corners of her mouth tugging downward.

Tina’s brow creased. “No luck, huh?”

“I told you,” Wren muttered, heading to the breakroom for coffee, “I’m not saying anything to him.”  

“Yeah, because honesty would be batshit insane,” said Tina with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Wren sighed as she poured some coffee into a cup. “You know why I can’t, Tina.”

“No, I know your dumbass reason why you won’t tell him,” said Tina. “But it’s stupid. You and Connor are so close. You’re honest with him about everything else. Why not this?”

Wren gritted her teeth as she tore open four sugar packets and dumped them into her coffee. “This is a little different.”

“I can tell you exactly what’s going to happen if you don’t tell him,” argued Tina, leaning against the counter with her hands in her pockets. “You’re gonna get all moody while you pine after him. And then you’re gonna start distancing yourself and then you’re going to resent yourself which you’ll project onto _him_ , which he won’t understand, which will hurt him and then you’ll hate yourself _more_. It’ll just be a shitshow.”

“ _Wow_ , you watch a lot of movies,” Wren huffed, pouring some dry powdered coffee creamer into her coffee.

“ _Wow_ , do you want some coffee with your sweetener?” Tina snapped.

Wren stirred in the sugar and creamer until the black transitioned into creamy brown. Wren brought the cup to her lips, a small smile twisting her lips. “Connor would shit a brick if he knew how much sugar and creamer I put in my coffee.”

“I think he already knows,” said Tina. She folded her arms. “You’re avoiding the conversation.”

Wren set her too-hot coffee down. “What do you want from me, Tina? Maybe all you said will happen. Maybe it won’t. If I tell him, and he doesn’t feel the same way, either he won’t understand and will reciprocate out of pity or misinterpretation, or he’ll tell me he doesn’t feel the same way and it’ll destroy our friendship. Either way, I’m fucked.”

“What if he does feel the same way?” Tina retorted.

Wren opened and closed her mouth. She grabbed her coffee, blew across the rim and then took a searing sip. She forced it down, ignoring the burn on the roof of her mouth. She’d suck on an ice cube later or something. “He doesn’t.”

“You don’t know that,” Tina insisted.

“You don’t know that he does, either,” said Wren.

“Wren, when you were in surgery, Connor…” Tina bit her lip. “I’ve never seen him look so _human_. I mean, I know he’s sentient and alive or whatever you want to call it, but… He’s so reserved normally. He’s so calm and collected and too polite. But at the hospital, he… He wasn’t himself. You could _see_ how worried he was. He was pacing, or staring at the floor, or losing his patience… And his LED thingy never changed from red.”

Wren’s heart perked its head up. She swallowed and forced herself to remain neutral. “All of you were worried. He would’ve been like that if Hank had been shot, too. It’s not because he’s in love with me or anything.”

Tina dropped her hands to her sides and shook her head. “Fine, be stubborn about it. But I’ll be watching him. We’ll see who’s right in the end.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” said Wren, “I just don’t want…” Her eyes pricked and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, okay?”

Tina softened. “Okay. I get it.”

Wren inhaled deeply. “So, how are things with you?”

“I got a noise complaint the other day,” said Tina.

“A noise complaint? What for?” Wren frowned over her coffee.

“I was on the phone with my mother,” said Tina. “I mean, yeah, I can get kind of excited sometimes, but… I wasn’t having a party or anything. And my neighbor has come to my door twice now complaining that my cats are being too loud.”

“They’re… they’re cats,” said Wren.

“Exactly.” Tina rolled her eyes. “She just moved in, and already she’s complained to me three times. And I’m never doing anything outrageously loud! The other night, I was blow-drying my fucking hair. It was eleven o’clock at night, but still! Put on some damn headphones, bitch…”

“That is a bit extreme,” Wren muttered.

“I mean, my lease expires soon anyway. I have to give them a thirty-day notice, but I think I’m just gonna move. If I get another noise complaint, I have to pay a fine. The third one, they kick me out.”

“Damn, that sucks,” said Wren.

Tina scrunched her lips. “You know… It would help me out financially to have a roommate.”

Wren’s eyebrows raised. “Me?”

“No, your coffee cup,” said Tina. “Yes, you. I mean, only if you want.”

Wren shifted. “Well… Hank just let me move into Cole’s room…”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Tina. “But if you want some space from Connor, because I’m sure it’s not easy living in the same house as him… Just think about it, okay?”

Wren nodded. “Yeah. It might be nice to have my own space and not around boys all the time.”

“Exactly,” grinned Tina.

Wren huffed. “Alright, we better get to work. Don’t want Fowler yelling at us.”

“Yeah, no,” agreed Tina.

They left the breakroom and separated to sit at their respective desks. Wren jumped to work on her paperwork, rolling Tina’s offer around in her mind. Would it be better for her to distance herself from Connor?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren had yet to bring up Tina’s offer to Hank and Connor. She knew they were family, but part of her wondered if Hank trusted her enough to live somewhere else. But being around Connor grew more and more difficult with each day. Wren forced herself to pretend everything was fine. She watched movies in her room with Connor, their physical closeness knotting her stomach. She managed to smile at him as often as possible, but her chest ached every time she forced down the impulse to hug him or hold his hand. _I love you_ stuck to the roof of her mouth like peanut butter. She forced herself to hold the words behind her teeth. She knew how to play games, to hide her true emotions. But since her deviancy, she found controlling herself much more difficult. She wondered if space from Connor might dull the pull in her chest to be near him. She wondered if distance could blunt love.

She waited with her hands in her jean pockets while an android fitted the picture Wren and Connor sent to the photo printing service. Wren smiled at the android worker, a WR600 model.

“It’s good to see you again,” said the android. Wren glanced at his nametag and smiled.

“You remember me, Perry?”

Perry lowered his gaze and smiled. “I remember every face. But I also remember you printed off that picture of Connor, one of the Jericho leaders. That was several weeks ago.”

“Yeah, for Connor’s birthday,” said Wren, beaming.

Perry tilted his head. “Birthday?”

“You don’t celebrate the day you were created? Or the day of your deviancy?” Wren asked, leaning forward, pressing her palms to the marbled countertop.

“I never considered it,” said Perry. He straightened. “One moment, please. Your picture is ready.” He hurried off to retrieve it.

While Wren waited for him to return, Connor strode toward her, a frame in hand. She looked down at it. “Found one?”

“This one seems to match Hank’s style,” said Connor, placing the black frame on the counter.

Wren nodded. “You might have a fan.”

“A fan?” Connor queried, the space between his eyebrows creasing. “My systems do contain a cooling system –”

“No,” Wren laughed, “an admirer.”

“Oh,” said Connor, blinking. “Who?”

“He’s coming back,” said Wren, watching Perry return to the counter, an envelope in his hands. He widened his eyes at the sight of Connor.

“It’s you,” Perry stated. “I can’t believe I’m meeting one of the leaders of Jericho!”

“I-I’m not one of the leaders,” said Connor, shaking his head.

“But you freed all of those androids at the CyberLife Tower,” protested Perry.

Wren glanced up at Connor, whose LED flickered. He opened and closed his mouth before managing, “I did, but I’m not really one of the leaders.”

“My roommate was one of the androids you helped free,” said Perry, ignoring Connor’s protests. “He marched with all of you, though he said he was toward the back.”

“Oh,” said Connor, looking uncomfortable.

Wren swallowed a laugh and turned to Perry. “Perry, we’d also like to get this frame. We’ve got some more birthday shopping to do.”

“For you?” Perry asked, looking at Wren and taking the frame to scan it. He wrapped it in paper and bagged their items. “That’ll be twenty-eight dollars and sixteen cents.”

Wren lowered her head and sifted for her card. “No, it’s for our friend Hank.”

“Payment received,” said Perry. Wren looked up sharply. Perry directed his attention at Connor. “Would you like a receipt sent to you?”

“No, thank you,” said Connor. Wren looked at him, a frown puckering her brow. Shit. She forgot that androids could pay telepathically, for lack of a better term.

Perry handed Wren the bag. “I hope to see you again soon.”

“Me too,” said Wren.

Perry tilted his head. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me your name.”

“Wren,” said Wren, smiling.

Perry returned the gesture. “Wren. That’s a name I’ll remember.” He winked. He looked at Connor. “It was an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise,” said Connor, his voice tight.

Wren’s eyebrows shot up and she waved farewell to Perry. She and Connor left the store, Connor oddly quiet. They waited for a taxi and clambered into the backseat. She input the address for the taxi to take them to a T-shirt store. Wren sighed and leaned her head against the headrest. She glanced at Connor.

“You okay? You seem quieter than usual.”

Connor blinked and looked at her, his eyes wide. “I’m alright.”

Wren lifted a brow at the strain in Connor’s voice but chose not to comment on it. “Okay, so we got the main gift. All that’s left is his T-shirt. It’s in stock, right?”

“Yes,” said Connor, tilting his head. “Do we have equipment to wrap the gifts?”

“Yeah, there was stuff leftover from when I wrapped your gifts.”

Connor nodded. “The anniversary of Cole’s death is coming up, as well as Cole’s birthday.”

Wren’s stomach lurched. “I know Hank drinks a lot… We should clear out the alcohol.”

“And hide his gun,” said Connor.

Wren bit her lip. “Has he tried…?”

“Yes,” said Connor, meeting Wren’s gaze. “Before the liberation, I found Hank passed out after playing Russian Roulette. He told me himself that he’s too afraid to do it himself, so he kills himself a little bit every day.”

Wren’s heart sank. She looked at the floor. “I haven’t noticed him try anything self-destructive lately. Or… ever.”

“He seems better,” said Connor. “I think he’s happier with us around.”

“Would it be a good idea to get him out of the house those days?” Wren queried.

“It depends,” Connor replied. His eyebrows pushed together. “I think he will be unable to work those days.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine,” said Wren, shaking her head. She rubbed her hands along her thighs. “I guess we should talk to him.”

“I suppose that would be the best approach.”

They exited the taxi once it reached their destination. Connor paid for it, much to Wren’s chagrin. She nudged him with her shoulder.

“Stop paying for everything,” she said.

“It’s quicker if I do. I have saved more money than you, anyway,” Connor replied.

“Yeah, but let me buy the shirt, okay? At least one of these gifts needs to be from me.”

“Alright,” agreed Connor.

They entered the shop. Connor led Wren to the back, where the “Knights of the Black Death” merchandise was located. They sifted through T-shirts and caps until they found the one they agreed upon earlier that day when scoring the website. Wren found Hank’s size and brought it to the counter. She paid for the shirt and then she left the store with Connor. They hid Hank’s gifts in Wren’s room.

When Hank drifted off to bed, they wrapped Hank’s gifts and signed his card. They waited a few hours before sneaking into the kitchen. Connor turned on the oven and retrieved ingredients from the fridge. Wren grabbed the box cake they hid in the pots and pans cabinet a few days before.

“Okay, we can’t use the mixer because it’s too loud,” Wren whispered. She grabbed a bowl and poured the cake mix into it. Connor brought over eggs and oil. Wren glanced at the oil. “Get out butter, not oil.”

“The instructions call for oil,” said Connor, his brow puckering.

“Butter’s better,” said Wren. She grinned. “Just trust me.”

Connor lifted a brow but did as she requested. Wren placed the butter into a bowl and put in the microwave. She stopped it before the microwave beeped obnoxiously and poured the softened butter into the cake mix. She cracked the eggs and dumped them in, too. Then she added almond extract to the mix. She let Connor stir the concoction. Together, they poured the cake batter into a sprayed pan and placed it in the oven.

Wren picked up the batter-coated spatula and licked it. Connor’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s raw egg in that mixture, Wren. You’ll get sick.”

Wren grinned. “Everyone eats cake batter, Connor. That’s the best part of baking _anything_.”

Connor pinched his brow. He walked over to the broken eggs and dabbed his fingers into the leftover goop. He placed it on his tongue. Wren widened her eyes. Connor seemed to freeze as he analyzed the contents. He rinsed off his fingers and turned to Wren. “I don’t detect any salmonella bacteria, so you should be safe as long as you don’t eat more than a few spoonsful.”

“I’m just going to clean the spatula,” said Wren, grinning. She licked the spatula again, moaning with delight at the buttercream batter. Connor looked away from her, his LED flickering. Wren’s brow twitched, but she smoothed her composure. She quickly pushed aside the possibility that Connor was flustered. She put the spatula in the sink and rinsed it off. Connor looked toward the oven before turning to face Wren.

“Are you and Gavin getting along?” he queried.

Wren nodded. “Yeah. I’m still not allowed in the field, but I consult with him over the phone and on video chat. We’re keeping a professional distance, I guess.”

“I noticed that you haven’t gone through the box of memorabilia that your mother gave you. Is there a reason why?” Connor tilted his head as he questioned her.

Wren looked away from him. She leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “I don’t want to watch anything alone. I’ve listened to the music that James gave me. It’s brought some things back.”

“Are the memories… pleasant or unpleasant?” Connor replied.

“Neither,” said Wren. “They’re mainly mundane things, like walking down the hallway of my high school or driving down the road.”

“Oh,” said Connor, his brow furrowing. “Do you think going through the other items will help you?”

“I know they will,” said Wren, “I just… I don’t know. What I remember and what I’ve been told about myself… When I was with Jonah, I don’t think I like the person I was.”

“Your mother and brother didn’t give you anything about your time with him,” said Connor.

“Yeah, that’s the point. I stayed away from my family. You saw my mugshot. I looked _awful_.” Wren sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair. “I just don’t know how I let myself fall apart like that. And what if that’s still in me? I probably have the same capacity to go off the deep end like I did then.”

Connor lowered his gaze for a moment. “You keep telling me that our choices matter. My programming is still part of me in many ways. I have the capacity to respond ruthlessly. I can revert to more mechanical attributes. And I’m… I’m scared of that part of myself. But you’ve told me that I’ve chosen to be better. I think the same applies to you.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “Maybe. I haven’t told you that sometimes people _snap_. If they didn’t, we’d be out of a job. What’s the point where I finally break?”

Connor looked to the side and worked his jaw. His LED flashed yellow. Wren’s stomach coiled. Perhaps it was unfair of her to ask Connor such questions. He met her gaze. “I don’t know.”

Wren’s lips twisted with a grim smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask you things like that. I know you don’t have all the answers.”

“I don’t mind,” said Connor, his eyebrows lifting. The corners of his mouth dropped. “I don’t think you’ll break anytime soon, Wren.”

“Me neither,” Wren sighed. She wiped down the counter with a dishtowel. “I guess I’m just being stupid about going through the stuff Mom gave me.”

“I don’t think you’re being stupid,” said Connor gently. Wren turned to face him, the corners of her mouth twitching. She bit her lip.

“We could look through some of it together,” she suggested. “Only if you want.”

“I’d like that,” said Connor.

Wren nodded stiffly. She left the room to grab the photo album her mom gave her. She returned with it and sat at the kitchen table. Connor sat next to her, his shoulder brushing hers. She opened up the album and smiled softly.

She’d been a fat, bald baby. But she looked happy. Her cheeks warmed at a baby picture of her naked in a bubble bath, but the bubbles on top of her head and her toothless smile tugged at the corners of Wren’s mouth. She flipped to the next page. Her eyes scanned the images of her as a toddler, riding a tricycle with red pigtails. She brushed her fingers over a picture of her on a swing. She closed her eyes as a memory flashed in her mind:

_“Higher, Daddy! Push me higher!”_

Wren opened her eyes. She looked at the other pictures with Connor. Her Little Mermaid birthday party, her first ballet recital, her first play (she was a munchkin in the Lullaby League), her first time riding a bike without training wheels… Some pictures documented family vacations, like a snow ski trip. She stood in her gear on the mountain, grinning with her front tooth missing.

Wren turned the page, showing a picture of her younger self in the hospital with a broken leg. She frowned. “Mom didn’t tell me this.”

“There are a lot of gaps to fill,” said Connor, looking at the picture. His LED flickered.

Wren stared at the picture, but no memory surfaced. Sighing, she looked at the others. It looked as if she took physical therapy before returning back to her dancing and theatre hobbies.

The next several pages showed Wren after dance shows and theatre performances, usually wearing a lot of makeup and holding a bouquet of flowers. Wren turned to the next page. She smiled at her homecoming pictures.

She stood in a green dress with a younger Jonah Cage, a dark-skinned girl who could only be Christine and James. They looked happy as they grinned, striking ridiculous poses.

Wren flipped through her prom pictures and arrived at her high school graduation. She looked much skinnier in the picture, but still happy. The next pictures showed her at her college campus. The album ended after a picture of Wren at Christmas dinner, looing noticeably skinny and tired.

The timer beeped and Connor jumped up. He put on oven mitts and retrieved the baked cake. He set it on the stovetop and returned to the kitchen table while they waited for it to cool.

“Did this trigger anything?” Connor murmured.

“Some,” said Wren. She flipped back to the swing picture. “I remember asking my dad to push me higher on the swing.” She flipped to the mountain picture. “I remember the feeling of skiing down the slope.” She looked at Connor. “Nothing really amazing.”

“I think it is,” said Connor, his eyebrows lifting. “You’re missing things, but you’re gaining your memories back. This is your life. You did all of these things, and they helped shape who you are, whether you remember them or not. I think it’s amazing.” His eyes flicked to the pages. He flipped through them, a small smile on his lips. “I like this one.” He pointed at a picture where Wren could be no older than eight or nine. She wore a unicorn jumpsuit for Halloween, looking quite proud of herself.

Wren’s lips twitched. She flipped to a picture of herself with James, the two of them standing in front of high stalks of corn. An anaconda hung around Wren’s shoulders like an accessory. “I like this one, though I wish I knew the story behind it.”

“Ask James,” suggested Connor.

“I will,” Wren promised. “But it’s three in the morning.”

She stood and checked on the cake. It felt cool enough to spread icing on it. Connor helped her move the cake from the pan to a plate. They used two full containers of buttercream icing to spread on the cake.

Wren scraped some leftover icing from her container and tapped Connor’s nose with the icing. “Boop.”

Connor blinked, his LED flickering. Wren smirked as Connor processed the interaction. He swiped the icing off his nose and then licked it off. Wren widened her eyes as Connor analyzed it. His lips upturned into a lopsided smile.

“Can you taste it?”

“Not the same way you do.”

“Can you eat?”

“No more than I just did. My systems have the ability to ingest miniscule amounts of food and other items without destructing. That’s why I’m able to take samples.”

“Oh,” said Wren, raising her eyebrows. “Cool.”

She grabbed a container of sprinkles and decorated the cake with them, making it as messy as possible. When they finished decorating, they quickly cleaned the kitchen and covered the cake. Connor brought in Hank’s gifts and set them on the table. Then, they left the kitchen. Wren carried her photo album back to her room. Connor followed her.

“I suppose I will see you in a few hours,” he said, lingering in the doorway.

“Yeah,” Wren yawned, “see you in the morning.”   

Morning arrived quickly. Wren fixed herself a cup of coffee and added to it when she drained it halfway. Connor paced the kitchen, a bounce in his step. Wren watched him, envying his energy. Hank shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Wren held out a cup of coffee, one she made exactly how Hank liked it.

He stopped in his tracks. “What’s the occasion?”

“I didn’t poison it,” Wren replied. Hank snorted and took the cup. Wren’s eyes flashed to Connor, who ceased pacing. He bounced on the balls of his feet. Wren held up a hand, palm forward. Connor nodded and stilled. They needed to wait till Hank finished his coffee before celebrating anything. Wren downed the rest of hers and joined Connor in front of the table, shielding the cake (which Connor uncovered earlier) and gifts.

“Do you want breakfast? Shit, we’re outta eggs… I thought we had a few left?” Hank muttered, his head in the fridge. He withdrew and finished his coffee. “We could grab donuts on the way to the station.” He turned and narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you two up to?”

Wren glanced at Connor, grinning. His smile was softer, but he seemed just as excited. They looked at Hank and stepped aside, revealing their handiwork, arms outspread. “Happy birthday!” they exclaimed.

Hank’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He looked between Wren and Connor. “You… You guys did this?”

“Of course we did,” said Wren, dropping her arms to her sides.

Connor straightened, his brow puckering. “Do you not like it?”

Hank rubbed his mouth, his eyes gleaming. “O’course I like, it you plastic asshole. C’mere, you two.” He extended his arms. Wren smiled as she and Connor entered Hank’s embrace. The three of them hugged for a few seconds before Hank released them. He sat down at the table. “This cake looks like a child vomited all over it.” He gestured to the outrageous amount of sprinkles.

“That’s what I was going for,” Wren chirped.

Hank sat down and opened his card. Wren watched his face as he read their notes. She had no idea what Connor wrote, but she knew hers by heart:

_Hank,_

_Like I told Connor, we met in a very unconventional way (I still haven’t forgot that you shot me!). Without making things too weird… I want you to know that you’ve been like a father to me these past several months. I don’t really remember my dad (and according to James, he hasn’t really been around a lot anyway), and Prometheus certainly didn’t act very paternal to me. But you have. You’ve been patient with me and have guided me when I’m lost. And I know, without saying it, that the three of us in this house share a bond. And I know we all love each other (don’t you dare roll your eyes at me –I know I’m being mushy gushy!). Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I’m really glad we met. Happy birthday!_

_Love, Wren_

Wren glanced at Connor, whose brow creased. He met her gaze before they both looked at Hank. Tears welled in Hank’s eyes. He set the card down and sniffled. “Thank you both. That, uh, that means a lot to me.”

“Open your gifts,” said Wren, pushing the boxes toward him with a bounce.

“Okay, okay,” said Hank, wiping his eyes. He tore the wrapping of the larger box and withdrew his new T-shirt. “Nice! Thank you.” He opened the other gift and pulled out the framed picture. It showed Wren and Connor crouched beside Sumo in Hank’s front yard. Wren smiled widely while Connor’s appeared softer. Sumo’s tongue hung out, looking as though he were smiling, too. Hank’s lips twitched at the picture. “This is really somethin’, kids. Thank you both.”

“And we can do whatever you want tonight,” said Wren. “Our treat.”

“You know,” said Hank, leaning back, “I haven’t been to a movie in forever.”

“Yeah!” Wren agreed, bouncing up and down. “I mean, I’m sure I’ve been to one before, but I don’t remember it! And Connor’s never had that experience.”

“Is it really different from watching a movie at home?” Connor queried.

“Yeah, the popcorn’s better,” said Hank. “Bigger screen, darker room, surround sound… It’s fun.”

“What would you want to see?” said Wren.

“I’ll look when we get to the station. Are we having cake for breakfast?” said Hank, gesturing to it.

“If you want,” said Wren.

“Depends on if Connor the nutritionist will allow it,” said Hank, glowering at Connor.

“I’m not a nutritionist,” said Connor.

“That’s a yes,” said Wren. She cut the cake and put a slice on a plate for Hank before taking one herself. They ate quickly, as they had less time to get ready for work. Connor offered to clean since he was already ready while Hank and Wren rushed through their morning routine. Wren applied a little makeup, heeding Tina and North’s advice to try and catch Connor’s attention. She slipped into the only skirt she owned –a black leather one –and a striped sweater. She wore black booties and tights to complete the outfit before heading out with Hank and Connor.

When they reached the station, nearly every person they passed bombarded Hank with a “Happy birthday, Lieutenant!” Hank managed a small smile, though he seemed annoyed with the gesture by the third person. Before they even reached their desks, Captain Fowler stepped out of his office.

“Anderson, Reed, Morgan, Chen, Miller and Connor –I want you all in my office in five minutes!”

Wren exchanged a glance with Tina, who shrugged. Wren looked at Gavin, Connor and Hank. “Are we in trouble?”

“Don’t think so,” said Gavin, folding his arms. “He doesn’t seem pissed off.”

“We better not be,” said Hank. “It’s my birthday.”

“Maybe he’s throwing a surprise party,” snorted Gavin.

“A one-man job?” Wren laughed.

Gavin grinned at her. His eyes roved over her. “Wow, Wren. You _actually_ look pretty today.”

Wren rolled her eyes and flipped Gavin off. Before she could respond, however, Connor said, “She looks pretty every day.”

Wren’s eyes widened and her heart seemed lighter than usual. Her cheeks warmed as she tried to hide a smile.

“Yeah, dipshit,” said Gavin, “I was being sarcastic.”

“Gavin’s a disaster at giving compliments,” said Tina, interjecting herself into the group. She nudged Wren and waggled her eyebrows at Wren’s outfit. Wren rolled her eyes again.

“Gavin’s a disaster in general,” she said.

“Stop attacking me,” huffed Gavin. Wren and Tina snickered while Chris joined them.

“I guess we should go in there, huh?” he said.

“Yep,” said Hank, leading the way. The six of them walked together into Fowler’s office and aligned themselves in front of Fowler’s desk. Wren and Connor exchanged a glance before facing Fowler.

The police captain scowled at them. “Stop looking like you’re at a funeral. It’s not bad news.”

Wren relaxed slightly. Fowler stood and circled his desk. He leaned against it. “Officers Miller, Morgan and Chen, the three of you have done exceptional work. I think it’s time we promote you to detectives.”

Wren’s jaw dropped. She looked at Tina and Chris, who wore similar expressions.

Hank patted Wren on the shoulder. “Congratulations, kid.”

Wren glanced at Connor, who wore a faint smile as he nodded in encouragement. Wren faced Fowler again, straightening. _Detective_. She was Detective Wren Morgan now. But that still didn’t explain why Fowler called the six of them in his office.

“The higher-ups and I have been in meeting after meeting the past few months,” said Fowler, rubbing his face. “As you all know, Hank and Connor are the only ones who work android-human related cases. Even though the android liberation was peaceful, there are still crimes involving androids and humans. And Hank and Connor’s workload just keeps getting heavier and heavier. So, with Markus’s help, we’ve decided to create a whole new branch in the Detroit Police Department dedicated to solving android-human related cases. I was asked to select a team to be the first on that branch. And congratulations to the six of you, you’re now the new Human-Android Division of the Detroit Police Department.”

Wren’s eyes stretched open even further. She looked at Connor, whose eyes broadened. They looked back at Fowler, unable to speak.

“So, uh, we’re a team? What, uh, happens next?” said Hank.

“I’m working on having the fifth floor repurposed to give you your own space. We’ll be moving drug-related crimes to this floor, and the six of you will move up. All of Hank and Connor’s cases have been transferred to the rest of your terminals. You’ll get started immediately. You’re all dismissed. Go gape at each other somewhere that’s _not_ my office.” Fowler waved them off.

The six of them trailed out of Fowler’s office and into the breakroom. Tina’s eyes looked as though they might pop out of her head. She covered her mouth. “Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

“Detectives,” said Chris, shaking his head. He grinned. “That means we get a pay raise!”

“A team? A fucking team?” Gavin folded his arms.

“Great,” said Hank, dragging a hand down his face, “I get to work with more children.”

Wren looked at Connor, grinning. “We get to be on a team together.”

Connor’s mouth slid into his usual lopsided smile. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thanks,” said Wren. She wanted to laugh. “I still can’t believe we’re all going to be on a team.”

Connor’s smile widened a bit. “I look forward to working with you, _Detective_.”

The apples of Wren’s cheeks popped as she smiled. “Likewise.”


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**_Chapter Twenty-One_ **

“Whelp, that’s a wrap,” grunted Hank. Connor offered him a small smile as they stood to pack their things from the day’s work. Hank looked around. “Where’s Wren?”

“She and Tina are organizing the new breakroom,” said Chris, stuffing his wallet in his back pocket.

“Probably shit-talking us,” called Gavin, craning his head toward the breakroom.

“Yeah, we think you’re a trash human!” said Tina, poking her head out of the door.

“Hurry up, Wren. We’re ready to go,” said Hank.

“Okay,” called Wren. Connor tilted his head as he waited for Wren and Tina to tromp out of the breakroom, talking in low voices.

“Don’t forget to talk to them,” Tina muttered. Connor’s brow pinched as his audio sensitivity picked up what Hank’s ears could not.

“I will, I will,” hissed Wren. The two women parted ways. Wren gathered her things from her desk.

“You get to go out in the field tomorrow, Wren. How does it feel?” said Hank.

Wren leaned her head back. “Thank _God_. If I have to spend one more day by myself here while you guys get to go out to crime scenes, I might actually jump out the window.”

Connor raised his eyebrows. “That would be ill-advised. The fall would possibly kill you, and if it didn’t, it would injure you greatly.”

Wren smirked up at him. “I was kidding.”

“Oh,” said Connor, heat prickling up his neck and fanning across his cheeks, “of course.”

Wren patted his arm.

**«3rR0r»◄F(f,-BlbD=DfoQ'Bl7Q+D.Oi6BOQ!*A8`S^+CoB►**

Wren’s hand dropped from his arm and he immediately missed the pressure. She looked to Hank. “Seriously though, I have cabin fever working here by myself all the time. It is good to finally be up here, though.”

“I bet,” said Hank. He waved to the others. “See you asshats tomorrow.”

Connor headed out with Wren and Hank. They took the elevator and rode to the parking garage level. Connor frowned, realizing that Wren had not mentioned whatever Tina wanted her to discuss. “What was it that Tina wanted you to discuss with us?” Connor asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Oh,” said Wren, her voice catching. She cleared her throat. “I, uh… Well, she… Um…”

“Jesus, spit it out already. You’re giving me a headache,” said Hank, cranking the engine.

“Well, she’s moving out of her apartment soon, and there’s a townhouse that she wants to rent, but she can’t afford it unless she has a roommate. And, well, she asked me. To be her roommate.”

Connor’s metal heart seemed to sag in his chest. He looked at Hank, hoping the older man would say no, but the corner of Hank’s mouth slid upward, and Connor’s thirium pump twisted. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Wait, really?” said Wren.

“Yeah, really,” said Hank. He shrugged. “I think Connor could have Cole’s room. And you’re an adult. You probably don’t need to be living with two guys anymore. It’d probably be more comfortable for you to have a female roommate.”

Connor wanted to kick himself. How had he not considered Wren’s feelings in the matter? He failed to ignore the heavy weight in his chest, though.

“I mean… You trust me?” Wren’s voice sounded small.

Connor squished his eyebrows together and exchanged a glance with Hank, who reflected Connor’s incredulity. Hank faced the road again. “Of course we trust you. You nearly died for Connor” –Connor’s thirium pump stuttered at the memory replaying in his processor –“we’d be jackasses not to trust ya. And let’s face it, if you were trying to get away, you’d’ve let Connor get shot and run. Lord knows I wouldn’t be able to catch ya.”

“Oh, I could’ve gotten away long before that,” said Wren. Connor shifted to glance at her. A static memory replayed in his processor.

**░** _He chased her across the lawn and tackled her to the grass. He pinned her down and felt her tense beneath him, her legs moving to wrap around him. And then she stopped and sagged underneath his weight. She ceased struggling, and he glanced down at her. Her brow creased, some of the fight still blazing in her eyes. He realized that she was probably capable of besting him, but chose not to. He wondered if he should fear her._ **░**

His lips twitched at the memory when she tried to sneak out of Hank’s to assist in the stalker case. He met Wren’s gaze and reveled in the smirk toying with her lips. He turned away, pushing the thought of his body pressed against hers.

They arrived at the house, where Hank mumbled something about ordering pizza. He closed himself in the bathroom and Wren turned to Connor, her teeth dragging across her lip.

“This weekend’s the anniversary, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Connor, his brow furrowing. “He mentioned visiting Cole’s grave.”

“Okay,” said Wren, nodding. She placed her hands on her hips. “You should be there with him.”

“Why not you?” Connor queried, frowning.

“Well, I don’t know… He may not want a lot of people there, and you’re closer to him than me,” said Wren, toying with the hem of her sleeve.

Connor dipped his head toward her, searching for her eyes, but she avoided looking at him. “I think he would appreciate both of our being there. He was there when we visited your grave.”

Wren grimaced. “Yeah, but I’m not _dead_ …”

“You still appreciated our support,” said Connor, lifting his eyebrows. Wren met his gaze and nodded. Connor’s lips twitched with a small smile. “Hank wants you there, too.”

“Okay,” said Wren, nodding with a deep breath. “We should get flowers.”

“Flowers?” Connor squished his eyebrows together.

“Yeah. People leave flowers at graves.”

“Oh,” said Connor, recalling the bouquets at the gravestones in the cemetery where Wren’s headstone rested. “I remember.”

“Okay, I’ll add that to my list of things to do on Friday,” said Wren, smiling.

Connor cocked his head. “What are you doing Friday?”

Wren pressed her lips together, popping the apples of her cheeks. “I have a date. Tina, Chris and Gavin helped set me up.”

“Oh,” said Connor, the corners of his mouth tugging with a strained smile, “that sounds fun.”

Wren frowned. “Okay, that looked like it _physically pained_ you to say that. Are you okay?”

Connor lifted his eyebrows and parted his lips. He had not expected her to call him out. What could he say? He didn’t want her to move out? He wished that she were spending her Friday evening with him? Connor smoothed his composure. He forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Wren raised a brow. “I don’t know.”

Connor sucked in a breath. His systems cooled. “Who is your date with?”

“Some guy named Tanner Wright. He’s a rookie cop working the drug division downstairs. He’s nice. We’ve texted some,” Wren shrugged.

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat. “Well, I wish the two of you the best.”

“Thanks,” said Wren slowly, eyeing him.

Hank exited the bathroom, dressed in pajamas with damp hair. “Alright, let’s order pizza and watch some of those home videos that your brother gave you. You need to stop skirting it, Wren.”

Connor glanced at her. Her cheeks lost some of their color, but she nodded. She left the room, and returned with the box. Connor took it from her hands. He sifted through it while Hank called and ordered pizza.

“I guess we could start with that one,” said Wren, pointing to one of the discs in Connor’s hand.

He read the title, scribbled on the outside in Sharpie: _Random Videos from iPhone_.

Connor dipped his head and inserted the disc into the player for the TV. Hank sat down in his armchair. Connor set up the appropriate input for the TV before sitting on the couch beside Wren. She hugged her knees to her chest, looking rather childlike. Connor refrained from sitting closer to her and fought the urge to touch her –to drape an arm around her, brush his knuckles against her hand, to intertwine their fingers. He turned his attention to the screen.

James had edited the videos into one master video, complete with some typed slides to contextualize the snippets of videos taken on his phone’s camera. The first slide materialized on the screen:

_Wren –_

_Hopefully these little videos help you remember. If you don’t, that’s okay. Maybe they’ll help you understand who you are, at the very least. Anyway, we love you._

_James_

The next slide appeared:

_This was just a day of us goofing off. Most of these are, actually. But hope this helps._

The video started, showing a younger Wren. Connor guessed that she was about twenty-two in the video. Her hair was longer. She held a balloon in her hands, grinning.

_“Okay, okay, it’s ready. Go!” said James._

_Wren bit a hole into the balloon and sucked some of the air out. She smiled as she looked up from the balloon. “What’s up?” Her voice was unnaturally high-pitched. She and James burst into giggles, Wren’s giggles sounding particularly chipmunk-ish._

Connor smiled softly. Wren seemed to relax. Connor glanced at her, his eyes softening.

The next slide appeared.

_This was the day you got your wisdom teeth removed._

_Wren sat in the front seat of a car, her cheeks puffy and her face red from laughter. She mumbled, but the gauze and cotton in her mouth muffled her words._

_“Honey, I can’t understand you with all that cotton in your mouth.” Shannon Blanchard’s voice sounded off-screen._

_Wren’s brow crinkled. She pulled the bloody gauze from her mouth. Her eyes widened and she looked at the camera. “Am I dying?”_

_Shannon laughed. “No, that’s supposed to happen, sweetie. You just had surgery, remember?”_

_Wren nodded. “Oh,” she mumbled. She scrunched her nose. “It’s like a period in my mouth.”_

_“Wrenley!” chuckled Shannon._

_Wren looked at her mother, her eyes shining. A smile spread across her face. “I’m having a baby?”_

_“No,” laughed Shannon. “That usually means you’re not having a baby. And it’s not in your mouth, goof.”_

_Wren frowned. She bowed her head. “That’s so sad.” She rubbed her belly and then leaned her head back before cackling. “The roof of my mouth feels like alligator skinnnnn!”_

_Shannon chuckled._

The video ended. The next few videos were again, snippets of Wren’s life. Typically, she acted silly with James and her friend Christine. The three of them goofed off in Halloween stores, rode bikes together (there was one video where Wren tried to unicycle and fell off, scraping her knee pretty badly –earning a loud guffaw from Hank) and hiked together. They were also involved in theatre together, so some of the videos showed the three of them backstage. After a while, the compilation ended.

“Well? Trigger anything?” Hank queried.

Wren shrugged. “Just random things that don’t really matter.”

“Well, we know that you were an average kid. Goofy as hell, but that’s nothin’ new,” said Hank, smirking at Wren.

Her lips twitched. “Yeah.” She sighed, stretching out her legs. Connor tensed when her thigh rubbed against his. “I’m going to hop in the shower. Let me know when the pizza gets here.”

“Yeah, it’s taking them forever,” grumped Hank. Wren stood and entered the bathroom. When they heard the water start, Hank raised his eyebrows at Connor. “Smooth.”

Connor frowned. “What?”

“Help me understand something,” said Hank, crossing his legs as he leaned back in his seat, “do you want Wren to know how you feel or not?”

**[Warning: Rise in System Temperature Detected _ Initiating Cooldown]**

Connor swallowed, ignoring the rush of warm thirium in his cheeks. “I…” He swallowed again. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled. “I think ya do. It’s a simple question, Connor.”

Connor lowered his gaze. He glanced toward the bathroom. His audio input picked up on Wren’s movements within the shower. Most likely, she could not hear them, especially over the music playing within the bathroom. He faced Hank.

“I… I’m scared.”

Hank’s expression softened. He leaned forward. “This stuff is always scary, kid. But you’ll never know what could be if you don’t try.”

Connor rubbed his palms together, squeezing his own fingers as he pressed his lips together. He pushed off from the couch and paced the living room. “She doesn’t feel the same way, Hank.”

“How do ya know?”

“She has a date this Friday,” said Connor, stopping to stare at his friend.

Hank raised a brow. “A date? That doesn’t mean anything. You went on that date with Chloe.”

“That wasn’t a date!” Connor stilled when the music inside the bathroom stopped. He widened his eyes at Hank, but the water continued to run. Connor faced Hank and pressed on in a lowered voice, “I’ve told you both that numerous times that it wasn’t a date. Even if Chloe thought it was, I didn’t. And we haven’t talked since.”

“Well, Wren might not know that,” muttered Hank. “She’s not a mind-reader, kid.”

The doorbell rang. Connor answered it. He paid for the pizza and brought it inside, setting the warm box on the counter. Hank stood and fixed himself a plate before sitting at the table.

“A word of advice,” said Hank, pouring himself a small glass of whiskey, earning him a reproachful look from Connor, which the older man ignored, “you gotta start at least hinting to Wren about shit.”

“Hinting?” Connor replied.

“Yeah, you know, flirting. Ask her to hang out with you, and not just here at the house. Take her to the movies or something. Offer to help her with some of her paperwork. You know how to flirt, right?” Hank eyed Connor, who looked from side to side, processing Hank’s question.

“I was programmed to integrate with humans seamlessly and to accomplish my task by any means necessary. My social relations protocol includes a multitude of approaches according to whatever the situation calls for –”

“It’s a yes or no question,” interrupted Hank.

Connor flexed his hands. “Yes. I know how to flirt.”

“So, flirt with her,” said Hank, shrugging. He downed the rest of his whiskey, grimaced and set the empty glass in the sink.

Connor widened his eyes. “I… I don’t know how to flirt with her.”

“Thought you said you knew how to flirt?”

“Yeah, I know what I said,” said Connor, turning away, “but it’s different with her. I know how to flirt _objectively_ , but… I’ve never had to do it because I _felt_ for the person.”

Hank sighed. “Look, you’ve got that gala thing comin’ up, right?”

Connor pinched his brow. “Correct.”

“And you’re allowed to bring a guest?”

“Yes.”

“So,” said Hank, drawing out the _o_ , “this is a perfect opportunity to ask someone you like to go with you. Someone you wouldn’t mind spending an entire evening with. Someone you’d like to see prettied up…?”

Warm thirium flooded Connor’s cheeks again. “Hank, I… I don’t know…”

“Ask her, Connor. Just fuckin’ ask her to be your date,” hissed Hank.

Connor opened and closed his mouth. “What if… What if she doesn’t want to go… with me?”

Hank dragged a hand down his face. “Look, even if she doesn’t reciprocate your feelings totally –and I think she does –Wren cares a great deal for you. She took a fuckin’ bullet for you. Give her some credit, alright? She’ll want to go. Now, I’m gonna go in my room for the rest of the night. You ask her tonight. Watch a movie with her, spend some time together… And then fuckin’ ask her.” A sly grin spread across Hank’s face. “Think of it as your mission to ask her to be your date to the gala tonight.”

Connor stiffened.

**▌Mission Acquired: Ask Wren to the Gala ▌**

He nodded. “Alright, alright. I’ll ask her.”

“Good,” said Hank. “Glad that’s settled.” He left the room, taking a third slice of pizza with him to his bedroom.

After a few minutes, the shower shut off. Eventually, Wren emerged, dressed in her pajamas. Her hair hung in wet waves around her bare face. She shuffled into the kitchen and grinned when she saw the pizza. “Oh, good. I’m starving.” She looked around, a frown tugging at her lips. “Where’s Hank?”

“He wants to spend the rest of his evening in his room,” said Connor tightly.

“Oh,” said Wren, lifting her eyebrows. “I thought we were gonna go through more of my memento box.”

“You and I can,” said Connor. “Or we can watch a movie.”

Wren smiled. “Sure. I’d like that. Want to watch the next _Star Wars_ movie?”

“Yes,” said Connor, brightening. Wren dipped her head and fixed herself a plate. She ate her pizza, and Connor tried his best not to watch her eat. He shifted, looking around the room. He took out his coin and flicked it from hand to hand.

Wren lifted her eyebrows at him. “Everything okay?”

Connor caught the coin in his right hand. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re messing with your coin, which means you’re thinking. And your LED is flickering.”

Connor stilled and cursed his LED –it made him so readable, even though he wanted to remain readable. “I… I wanted to ask you something.”

Wren frowned and stood, having finished her pizza. She brought her plate to the sink and rinsed it off. “Okay.”

“The gala is approaching,” said Connor.

“Yeah… In a little over a month,” said Wren. “Do you need help finding a suit?”

“N-no,” said Connor, “Markus and Josh said they’d help.”

Wren shut off the faucet and turned to face him. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “Okay, so what’s up?”

Connor gazed at her, traveling over her form-fitting sweatpants and oversized sweater, her wet hair and makeup-free face. She looked beautiful. He swallowed. “I was wondering if you would like to be…” He didn’t want to say _my date_ , just in case she did not reciprocate his romantic feelings. “We’re allowed to bring someone with us to the gala. Since you didn’t have an invitation, I was wondering if you would like to be my guest.”

Wren’s eyebrows raised. For a moment, Connor feared she would deny his request. Then, she smiled. “That sounds fun! Of course I’ll go with you.”

Connor relaxed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Good. I-I look forward to it.”

“Me too,” said Wren. Her eyes brightened. “Is this going to be super formal, or do you think they’ll have dancing? I’d love to go dancing! I know that I don’t remember everything about my life before, but I do remember that I loved dancing. I mean, I studied it in school.”

Connor raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know. I’ll ask Markus.” His thirium pump stuttered. He didn’t know how to dance. He hoped that there wasn’t any dancing, for his sake.

He and Wren trekked to her room, where they sat on her bed to watch _Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith_. Connor leaned forward, engrossed with the action of the opening scene. He smiled while Wren laughed at the “flying half a ship” part.

“She’s pregnant,” Wren breathed as Anakin questioned Padme. Connor furrowed his brow and widened his eyes when Padme confirmed Wren’s assumption.

“How did you guess that?” Connor queried.

“Intuition,” murmured Wren. Connor’s lips twitched. The corners of his mouth fell as he glanced at Wren. Maybe it was best if she did not reciprocate his feelings, he thought with a sharp tug in his thirium pump. There were things that he could not give her that a human could. His eyes pricked and he faced the screen again. The tightness in his chest thickened and clogged his throat as he watched Anakin’s descent into darkness. The artificial tears pricking the edges of Connor’s eyes blurred his visual input. He blinked to clear them, and they dripped down his cheeks.

Wren gasped when Anakin choked Padme. The battle between Obi-Wan and Anakin had Connor and Wren on the edges of their seats. When Padme died, Connor heard Wren’s breath hitch. He looked at his hands, his thirium pump feeling much heavier than usual. The movie ended, and Wren said, “Well, that sucked.”

The corners of Connor’s mouth tugged upwards. He nodded and stood from the bed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” Wren yawned. Connor left her room, leaving the door shut behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before trekking down the hall. It was outrageously selfish of him to want more than friendship with Wren. He could never give her children. He couldn’t grow old with her. All he could give her was his synthetic heart.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor strode toward his team on the fifth floor. His audio input picked up their conversation with ease.

“Anyone wanna get drinks tonight?” said Gavin.

“Can’t,” Wren called over her shoulder as she walked toward the elevator, “I have plans.”

“Oh yeah, you have that hot date,” said Tina, winking.

Wren turned to look at them over her shoulder. Connor expected her to face him again, but Wren kept walking forward. She turned, though too late, walking smack into him. Connor raised his eyebrows as Wren tilted her head back to look up at him, grinning sheepishly.

**«pr0c3551ng5_3_5c28gY2xvc2U_0M3»**

“Oops,” she said.

Thirium rushed to Connor’s cheeks, warm under his plastic skin. He tried to smile, but it felt ingenuine. He wanted Wren to take a step back. Having her stand so close to him –her body flush against his –was rather distracting.

“We just came lookin’ for ya,” said Hank. “We’ve got a case. Half of us are staying here. Reed,” Hank called, waving Gavin over. Gavin joined them, crossing his arms. “The three of you are going to the crime scene. We’ve got an android who killed her boyfriend.”

“If we know who did it, why are we investigating?” said Gavin.

“She claims it was because she was abused,” said Hank heavily. “I need you guys to look and see what you can find at the house. We’re gonna interrogate the android.”

“Got it,” said Wren. “C’mon, boys.”

At the crime scene, Connor worked on processing the scene. The victim’s body had already been removed by the coroner, leaving a bloodied mattress in its wake. Connor found the bullet holes in the mattress. The victim perished almost instantly from a shotgun wound.

“Fucking hell,” said Gavin, looking at a few photographs. “Looks like she was his android pre-liberation.”

“This place is super clean,” said Wren, looking around, her nose crinkling.

“Yeah, this guy’s definitely a neat freak,” agreed Gavin, stepping into the spotless master bathroom.

Connor tilted his head. “It’s too clean.”

“It reminds me of Anthony Jameson’s house,” said Wren, rubbing her arm. “The guy who slashed me when he tried to escape through the alley.”

Connor remembered, all too well, Wren dragging in the man with blood seeping through her shirt. He swallowed and suppressed the memory. He’d seen too much of Wren’s blood. Connor frowned and narrowed his eyes at the walls. “There isn’t enough blood.”

“This isn’t enough blood for you?” Gavin demanded, indicating to the blood-soaked mattress.

“Based off the weapon used, there should be blood splatter on the walls,” said Connor. “There should be residue.”

“It does smell like cleaner,” said Wren, wrinkling her nose again.

“So, she kills him, then cleans up?” Gavin frowned. “Doesn’t seem like the mind of an innocent person to me.”

“But the report said she turned herself in,” said Wren, shaking her head. “Why kill him and then turn herself in? I don’t think she was covering her tracks.”

“Why else would she clean up, though?” Gavin asked, picking up a framed photo. Connor looked at the desk. All of the items were spaced evenly apart, exactly two inches. Gavin picked up a tablet. “Talk about a routine schedule. Look at this.” He showed Wren and Connor. Every detail of the day was sketched out on the daily calendar.

“What’s with this city and controlling men?” Wren muttered, looking away. She opened up the closet. “Whoa.”

Connor followed her into the closet and looked at the hanging clothes and shoes. Again, they were all spaced apart evenly.

**«scanning» [Items Spaced One Inch Apart]**

“They’re all spaced exactly one inch apart,” said Connor. He turned to look at Wren, and realized just how close they were standing in the cramped closet when his nose bumped hers. Their lips were inches apart. It took everything in Connor not to tilt his head downward and brush his lips against Wren’s, feeling her body so close to his.

The closet suddenly felt very warm. Connor drew back sharply and backed out, pressing his lips together.

“Having fun?” Gavin muttered.

Connor’s face heated. He cleared his throat. “W-we should inform the others of our findings.”

Gavin smirked. “Uh-huh.”

Wren shuffled out of the closet, her cheeks slightly pink. She kept her eyes averted.

They returned to the precinct, where the others extracted the story from the android –an AX400 model. Connor wondered if Kara and Alice had found the happiness they deserved. He wondered if it would be odd of him to try and contact them, just to extend a friendly hand. He pushed the thought from his mind as Tina and Chris talked about the AX400’s confession.

“She said she cleaned because she thought that he’d be angry when he woke up that she left all that blood on all the walls,” said Tina.

Chris frowned at Connor. “Is it possible for an android to lose their minds?”

Connor raised his eyebrows. “If they suffer enough physical, emotional and psychological trauma, yes. The right triggers cause deviancy. Once an android deviates, they can suffer emotional breakdowns, same as a human. So, yes, it is possible.”

“Well, I think she’s suffered a lot,” said Chris.

“She’s open to a memory probe,” said Hank, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Says she’s got nothin’ to hide. I told her to take it up with her lawyer.”

“She has a lawyer?” Wren queried.

“Yeah, Jericho provides legal help for androids who can’t afford it. I called North. I felt like this android could suffer more than she needs to without representation,” uttered Tina.

“So, we think she just had a breakdown from all the abuse and shot the guy?” Gavin queried. Everyone nodded. Gavin shrugged. “Alright. But she did shoot a guy.”

“Yeah, and she’ll face consequences. But hopefully she can get help, too,” said Tina.

Connor glanced at Wren, unable to focus on the case. His processor relived that moment in the closet, in static detail, where Wren stood close enough that their lips almost touched. He could make out the light freckles on her nose, dappling her cheeks. They were visible only when one stood close enough to Wren and when she wore no makeup, but Connor liked them. He had freckles, but his were not authentic like hers. His were designed and intricately placed to make him appear aesthetically pleasing and human. Hers were naturally aesthetically pleasing and human.

He forced himself out of the memory and shook the thoughts away. After completing their paperwork, the team separated. Chris went home to his wife and son while Gavin, Tina and Hank went out for drinks, promising to get Hank home safely when Connor and Wren shared a scowl. Hank glowered at them in turn, uttering an indignant, “Who the fuck’s the parent around here? Not you two!”

Connor and Wren took Hank’s car home, where Wren readied for her date. Connor chose to read some Edgar Allan Poe. Wren clicked down the hall in a pair of heels. Connor looked at her and his lips parted. She wore thigh-high black boots and a brown skirt. Her skin peeked through the space between the skirt and boots. She wore a lowcut black top with the skirt. Connor swallowed as Wren pulled on a leather jacket.

“How do I look?” she asked.

Connor’s throat tightened. He cleared it with a soft cough. “You look nice.”

Wren smiled. “Thanks. Alright, I’m off. The taxi should be here soon. See you later!” She swept out of the house without another word. The house reverberated with heavy silence. Connor rubbed his palms together. He glanced at Sumo, who groaned as he moved his large head and closed his eyes.

Connor huffed and grabbed the keys to Hank’s car. He drove to a local grocery store and purchased some flowers for Cole’s grave. He returned to the house after an hour of grocery shopping, stocking up on healthy items for Hank’s fridge. He relented and bought some bacon, too. He knew that Hank and Wren were out of their “secret” stash of it. Connor wasn’t blind; he knew where Hank hid the bacon in the back of the fridge. But he decided that he shouldn’t police their diets quite so harshly.

He returned to Hank’s house and searched the cabinets for Hank’s alcohol. He hid it in Wren’s bedroom under her bed. He searched the rest of the house for Hank’s gun and hid it under Wren’s bed, too.

Once he finished with that, he cleaned the house to pass the time. He swept and mopped. He wiped down the countertops and scrubbed the shower spotless, all the while trying to ignore the crushing ache in his chest that squeezed around his throat like a pair of hands. He tried not to think of Wren laughing with her date, holding his hand, smiling, gazing at him with her twinkling eyes, kissing him… Connor shuddered, another ache throbbing throughout his body.

Wren returned while Connor was in the middle of reorganizing the spice cabinet. He raised his eyebrows and glanced at the clock. She had only been gone about two hours. She closed the front door with more force than necessary. Connor put the rest of the spices back into the cabinet, completely disorganized –he’d reorganize them once everyone was asleep. Wren entered the kitchen and Connor tilted his head at her.

“Hey,” she said, opening up the cabinet. “Where’s Hank’s whiskey?”

“I hid it,” said Connor.

Wren paled. “Shit, the anniversary’s tomorrow. I’m sorry, Connor. I was supposed to help.”

“It’s alright,” said Connor. He furrowed his brow. “Why do you want it?”

“I need a drink,” said Wren, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.

Connor frowned. “I take it the date did not go well?”

“It did at first,” said Wren slowly, grinding her teeth. “But then we saw an android and human couple. And John was totally against it. He said it was weird and gross –and a lot of other slurs that I don’t want to repeat –and I told him not to be androidphobic. I left after that.”

Connor’s chest tightened. Add that to the list of why it would be best if Wren did not reciprocate his feelings: the social backlash. He swallowed the lump in his throat and ignored the lift in his thirium pump when he realized that Wren’s date went _badly_.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He meant it. He wanted Wren’s happiness, even at the cost of his own. But he could not deny that he was also glad that the date went poorly. His insides felt tangled with the conflicting emotions raging inside him. He was happy that the date failed, but sorry that Wren seemed so frustrated. He wanted to see her smile again. “Would you like to watch a movie?”

“Yeah,” said Wren. “I need to forget about this date.”

“You’ll have other chances,” said Connor, a little glumly.

“Yeah… Have you and Chloe talked? I’m surprised you didn’t ask her to be your guest for the gala.”

“Chloe and I didn’t go on a date. Even if she thought it was, it wasn’t for me.”

“Oh. Why not? She’s a pretty girl.”

“She is,” Connor allowed, “but I’d prefer someone else.”

“Who?”

“Uh…” Connor widened his eyes, glad that his back was to Wren as he entered the living room, “N-no one in particular. Just someone I have a connection with.”

“Me too,” agreed Wren. “Oh, I talked to North earlier. She said that there’s a band for the gala, which means there’ll be some dancing!”

Thirium trickled from Connor’s face. A chill ran through his circuits. “I-I don’t know how to dance.”

Wren raised her eyebrows. “You… _You don’t know how to dance_?”

Connor tensed. “I know the logistics of it, but it was never an essential part of my programming. I can do the technicalities of it, but… I can’t dance like you could.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Wren replied. “You just… You seem to know how to do everything.”

Heat rushed to Connor’s cheeks. “I suppose I know… I know _how_ , but…”

“There’s a difference between knowing the steps, performing them and _dancing_. I get it,” said Wren. Connor nodded, relieved she understood. She stood, took out her phone and played a song. She held out a hand to him. “Dance with me.”

Connor looked from side to side. “Now?”

“I’ll teach you,” said Wren. She smiled. Connor drew in a long breath and accepted her hand. He had held her hand several times before, but never had it affected him as much as it did now. When he knew his feelings surpassed friendship, but he could not bring himself to tell her, forcing him to hide it, the feeling of her hand in his tormented him. They stood in the middle of the room, the upbeat indie song playing in the background.

“Just follow my lead,” said Wren. She moved her feet, and Connor watched, calculating and tracing her movements as they kept in time with the rhythm. His audio input picked up the tambourine in the background of the song, acting as a cheerful metronome. He counted the beats and then tapped his foot.

Wren laughed. “There you go!” Connor watched his foot for a moment before looking at Wren again, his brow furrowed in askance. “You’ve got the beat, now you’ve actually got to start _moving_.”

Wren moved her legs, hips and arms. Her body definitely moved in ways that Connor doubted his could.

“Wren, I’m not sure I’m equipped for this,” he said, still tapping his foot. He knew he could move the same way Wren did, but it would not be as fluid as her movements. She filled her dancing with passion, whereas his was just an imitation. He tried swaying, but merely succeeded in moving his shoulders awkwardly. His cheeks burned.

“Nonsense,” Wren chided, “I’ve seen you parkour and take down suspects like it’s art to you. You’re definitely equipped for this.”

Connor frowned and watched Wren more closely. He looked at his feet and moved them to the beat. His actions seemed too robotic. Wren’s body flowed to the music while his seemed choppy. His shoulders sagged and he glanced back up at Wren. She slowed her movement. “You’re thinking too much. Don’t calculate it. Don’t watch your feet. Just move.”

Wren resumed her dancing. Connor watched her for a moment before trying again. Wren laughed, bringing warmth back to Connor’s cheeks. She placed her hands on his hips. “Move your hips more,” she giggled.

**«pr0c3551ng…5h_15_0uc_1ng_y_1ps_w4_t_h3_3l3ctr1ct_uch»**

He froze, a warmth flooding his abdomen and below the belt. Heat fanned across his cheeks. His eyes met Wren’s and she stilled.

She jerked her hands away from his hips. “Sorry, I, uh… I didn’t mean… I overstepped.”

“You didn’t bother me,” Connor murmured. Wren’s eyes lifted to his, her lips parting. Connor’s chest tightened painfully. If he needed to breathe, he would’ve choked. Wren placed her hands back on his hips. She moved them, stepping with the beat. Connor followed suit, ignoring the tingle in his groin. He watched Wren’s hips roll and attempted to mimic her, hoping that his cheeks did not betray how flustered he felt.

“There, you’re getting!” Wren cried breathlessly. Her hands left his hips, leaving him to his own devices. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. Wren wobbled her knees and Connor copied her. Their feet slid on the smooth floor, but it only resulted in easier maneuvering. Connor soon forgot the electric current throbbing through his circuits.

All too soon, the song ended. A slow song by the same artist began to play. Wren’s smile softened as she gazed up at Connor, panting slightly. His smile faltered a bit as Wren stepped closer.

“Everybody needs to know how to slow dance,” she said. She held one of Connor’s hands in hers and guided the other to her waist. She placed her free hand on his shoulder. She stepped and Connor followed. He found this dance –the waltz –easier to follow. Wren watched their feet for a moment before she looked up, grinning. “You’re getting the hang of this.”

Connor met her gaze and her smile faded. Their movements slowed as they stared into each other’s eyes, until they were merely swaying on the spot. The lyrics of the song burned in Connor’s ears:

_There ain’t language for the things I feel_

_If I can’t have you, no one ever will_

Hyperawareness flooded his senses, and he felt how close Wren stood to him. He felt the skin of her palm, soft and synthetic like his. He felt her body pressed against his –he could not help but think they fit together nicely. He heard her soft breath. His eyes danced around her features, the curve of her lips, the way her eyes glowed as she gazed at him… His lips parted and he realized they had stopped moving. His eyes darted to her lips and back to her eyes.

They jumped apart when the front door swung open. Hank strode in, whiskey clinging to him like a ghost, but he grinned. “Shit, I didn’t mean to cockblock ya.”

“We weren’t –” Connor tried.

“You weren’t interrupting anything,” said Wren quickly. Connor’s thirium pump sank. Wren started toward Hank, hands outstretched. “Do you need help?”

“Nah, I got it. I’ve been drunker. You two are all set to come with me to see Cole tomorrow, right? Don’t think I can do it alone,” Hank hiccupped at the end.

“Of course,” said Connor.

Hank nodded, pursing his lips. “Means a lot to me.” His eyes grew misty. “I, uh, I really love you kiddos. Hope you guys know that.”

Connor’s chest swelled. He glanced at Wren, who smiled softly. Connor turned back to Hank. “We know, Hank.”

“We love you, too,” said Wren.

“Don’t ever speak o’ this again, hear me?” said Hank, narrowing his eyes at them. “I’ve got a regulation to upkeep.”

Connor frowned. “Do you mean ‘reputation?’”

“Shut up, ya plastic asshole,” said Hank.

Wren smirked and shook her head. She glanced at Hank. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, stop worryin’,” said Hank, waving her off.

Wren glanced at Connor, who nodded to her. “Alright, then. I’m going to bed. See you guys in the morning.” Wren left the room, leaving Connor alone with Hank, who grinned and formed the O.K. symbol with his thumb and index finger.

“Now _that’s_ flirting, Connor,” he drawled.

Connor widened his eyes. “I wasn’t…!” He sighed and ushered Hank to his bedroom. Connor lowered his voice. “I wasn’t flirting with her. And she still doesn’t know, so I’d appreciate it if you kept words like _cockblock_ to yourself.”  

Hank cackled. “You said _cock_.”

Connor suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Goodnight, Hank.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The silence pressing down upon them seemed thicken enough to wilt the bouquet of flowers in Connor’s lap. It didn’t, of course, but Connor felt it and was sure that if he could feel it, then the flowers could, too. Hank drove with a grip that whitened his knuckles. Wren said nothing in the backseat. The radio remained silent. They arrived at the cemetery, but no one moved for several seconds.

Hank let out a stiff sigh and kicked his door open. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

Connor got out of the car. Wren followed suit. The three of them trekked through row after row of grey stone. Connor flicked his eyes from headstone to headstone before lowering his head. They marched on until they reached a corner. Connor’s eyes trailed up the marker, taking in Cole’s name engraved into the stone.

Hank sniffed. “Shoulda been here for your birthday, son. I’m sorry. Add that to the list of things I’m sorry for, I guess,” Hank rubbed his nose. “I’ve got two friends here,” he said. “This is Connor and that’s Wren.” Hank paused to offer Connor and Wren a small, awkward smile before looking back at the grave. “You would’ve liked them, son. Connor… Connor reminds me a bit of you. Wren, too. Yeah. Wish you could be here. But I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me. These two assholes take care of me. Hid my liquor and my gun. Yeah, I know you guys did. Anyway, Cole… I love you. I always will.” Hank stared at the headstone for a few seconds before sniffling. He smiled to himself and then shuffled off, leaving Wren and Connor alone with Cole’s grave.

Wren stepped toward the headstone, picking at her synthetic fingernails. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but… I want you to know that I really love your dad. And I’m trying to help him. I’ll make sure he’s safe, I promise. I know you don’t blame him for what happened. But he does. And… We’re trying to help him forgive himself. I just want you to know that… He loves you and shows it every day, but… Yeah. We love him, even if he doesn’t really love himself. I, uh… I wish I’d gotten to meet you.” She placed a hand on top of the gravestone, averting Connor’s gaze. She walked away briskly, following after Hank.

Connor stared at the grave, his lips parted. He did not understand the customs of his human companions, but he felt compelled to say something to Cole. “I… I could never replace you,” Connor muttered, his voice as dry as the leaves in the trees, “but I want you to know… I love your dad as if he were my own.” Connor paused, smiling grimly to himself. “I don’t have a father because I’m an android, but…” He glanced after Hank and Wren. “I do know what it’s like to have a family now. And it’s thanks to your dad. He’s like my dad, and…” Connor trailed off, his throat constricting. He swallowed. “I’m sorry that you’re not here. But I hope there’s a heaven, and I hope you’re there.”

Connor set the bouquet into the vase attached to the grave before following after Hank and Wren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys! Your comments are so uplifting. Sorry for the late update, I'm in the middle of moving (I should be in my new townhouse by Wednesday and I'm super excited!!!) but it's just been a hectic weekend. Anyway, thank you guys for your support!


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**_Twenty-Two_ **

Wren lifted a box and carried it out of Tina’s apartment to the truck that North brought from Jericho. She reached the door to exit the apartment building and positioned herself to push it open with her foot, but it swung open. Connor stepped aside and gestured for her to exit.

Wren smiled. “Thank you.” She walked past him and loaded the box into the back of the truck. She pushed it as far as it would go in the truck bed before turning back to head up the stairs.

“Gavin and Chris are on their way with Gavin’s truck and Chris’s trailer to start packing up furniture,” said Tina, placing her hands on her hips. “Thank you guys again for helping me with this.”

“Of course,” said Wren, squatting to pick up another box. Connor and North stacked boxes and carried them two at a time. Wren rolled her eyes at them. Neither android could see around the boxes they carried, yet they never fumbled on the steps.

Tina grabbed a box and carried it down while Wren followed with her box. They loaded the rest of the truck and the back of Tina’s car. By the time they finished, Gavin and Chris arrived with the truck and trailer.

“Alright, let’s hustle,” said Gavin, clapping his hands together.

“We’re not playing football,” said Tina.

“I’d rather be playing football,” said Gavin.

“Oh yeah, because you’re _so_ masculine,” Wren scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, who brought the truck?” said Gavin, gesturing to said vehicle.

“North did first,” replied Wren.

Gavin looked at North, who merely raised her eyebrows at Gavin, unimpressed. He gulped and fidgeted before leaning toward Wren. “Is she always this cold?”

“Until she decides if she likes you or not,” Wren replied.

Tina tossed the keys to her apartment to Chris. “You guys can start loading up the furniture while we drop off this load, okay?”

“Got it,” said Chris. He turned to Connor. “Why don’t you help us out, man?”

“Alright.” Connor followed Gavin and Chris back into the building and up the stairs to Tina’s apartment.

Tina hopped into her car while Wren climbed into the passenger seat of North’s truck. North followed Tina through town to the new townhouse.

“Any luck with Markus?” Wren queried.

“No,” said North. “But I’m distancing myself. I’ve considered asking someone to be my date to the gala.”

“Yeah? Who?” Wren queried.

“Honestly, I was going to ask Tina. I think she’d enjoy being part of the group.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” Wren agreed. “But I don’t think distancing yourself from Markus is the best idea. How is he supposed to know something’s up if you don’t tell him?”

“Because he should know by now,” insisted North. “For an advanced prototype, Markus is an idiot.”

“It must be the RK models,” said Wren, smirking.

North grinned. “Must be.” She frowned. “So, no luck?”

“I really don’t think he feels the same way. He seems weird whenever something even _slightly_ romantic starts to happen. Uncomfortable, even.”

“Romantic? What’d I miss?”

“Nothing much, that’s what I’m saying,” Wren sighed. She pressed her lips together. “And he sort of went on a date.”

“What? When?” North looked at Wren, her eyes wide.

“A week or so ago,” said Wren. “He insists that it wasn’t a date to him, but… I don’t know. It still stung, you know?”

“I’m sure,” said North, slowing down as they reached the townhouse. She parked on the side of the road. She shifted the truck’s gear and turned in her seat to look at Wren. “Maybe you should take your own advice and talk to him. You’ll never know and neither will he. Maybe he’s scared to tell you how he feels.”

Wren rubbed her face. “Maybe. I’m glad I’m moving in with Tina. It’s difficult being around Connor so much. I’m emotionally exhausted from pretending that I don’t feel anything more than friendship for him.”

“Then maybe you should be honest with him,” said North. “Even if he doesn’t feel the same, you’ll be in your own place and you can grieve and then move on.”

“Maybe,” said Wren. She smiled wryly. “But I’m a wuss, so probably not gonna happen.”

“What is it the humans say? ‘The first step is admitting your problem?’ Something like that?” North grinned.

“Something like that,” Wren agreed, hopping out of the truck. She grabbed a box and brought it toward the townhouse. The steps were dark, matching the front door and shutters. The rest of the exterior was white brick. Wren entered the building, her new home.

The floors were white while the stairs were black, continuing the contrast of dark and light. The skinny foyer led to an open area, the living room. Wren carried the box to that room, admiring the windows encircling the room. She set down the box and went to retrieve another. She brought the second box upstairs, where one of the bedrooms and bathrooms was located. There was another floor where the second bedroom was. Wren went back to the first floor and wandered through the open living room to a room off to the side. She grinned at the narrow kitchen. The floor was white tile with black diamond tile pieces spaced evenly to contrast the white. The cabinets were white with black countertops.

“Isn’t this kitchen fucking awesome?” Tina questioned, setting a box on the counter. Wren nodded. “Did you see the bathtub yet?”  

“No,” said Wren.

“It’s claw-footed. The other bathroom just has a shower, but we can share the bathtub because it’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” Wren grinned.

They finished unloading boxes and returned to the apartment to load more boxes. They spent the rest of the day back and forth between the two places. Connor and North helped set up the wifi and TV after everything was moved in. Tina bought Gavin and Chris dinner before collapsing on the couch.

“When we have everything unpacked, we’ll have a housewarming party,” she promised, draping an arm over her eyes.

“Hey, Tina,” said North. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You know that gala coming up to celebrate the android liberation?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m allowed to bring a guest. Wanna be my date?”

Tina sat bolt upright. “Are you serious?”

“Yes…?”

“Fuck yes! I’ve always wanted to go to a gala. I’m a cop. I never really get to go to anything fancy unless I’m on duty at the event.”

“Then we better go dress shopping,” said North, smiling.

Wren nodded, sitting on the arm of the couch. “Yeah, I definitely don’t have anything to wear to the gala.”

North puckered her brow. “You’re going?”

“I asked her to join me as my guest,” said Connor.

North raised her eyebrows at Wren, who stated quickly, “Just as friends.”

North’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

Connor lowered his gaze and his LED flickered. Wren’s stomach twisted. She wished it were more, but she wasn’t about to pressure him.

“We also have some furniture shopping to do, Wren. You don’t have a bed.”

“Yeah,” Wren shifted. She had decided to leave the bed at Hank’s for Connor whenever he entered standby mode. Plus, she’d like something a little bigger.

“We can go shopping tomorrow,” suggested North. “Early in the morning. We can help Wren find a bed and mattress and look for dresses. Connor, you’re welcome to come on both outings.”

“Thank you,” said Connor, lifting his eyebrows, “but Hank and I have plans.”

“Well, Connor and I should get back to Hank’s. We’re gonna spend the evening hanging out since it’s my last night over there,” said Wren, hopping off the couch.

“Yeah, I should get back to Jericho.”

“Alright, guys. I’ll see you in the morning,” said Tina, walking them to the door.

Wren waved to North before climbing into the passenger seat. Connor and Wren rode in Hank’s car home. Neither of them spoke the whole drive. Wren picked at her synthetic fingernails, her brow creasing. Her chest throbbed, though the sensation never dulled in Connor’s presence.

Hank had ordered Chinese takeout for dinner. He gifted Wren’s box to her and they sat at the couch while Connor picked out one of Wren’s memorabilia movies. He chose _Phantom of the Opera_. Wren watched the film with awe, admiring the ballet in it. Her chest longed for a stage to perform on. She pressed her lips together. Missing things she did not remember was a persistent feeling, it seemed. After _Phantom of the Opera_ , Hank picked out what he called a classic – _Shrek_.

Wren soon forgot the ache in her chest as she laughed at the movie. Hank lightened up tremendously, cackling like a child at moments of the film that he referred to as “meme-able.” Hank and Wren cleaned the kitchen after the movie. Hank drifted off to bed after patting Wren’s shoulder.

Wren turned to Connor. She smiled slightly. “Well… Goodnight.”

Connor’s lips twitched, though his eyes seemed sad. “Goodnight, Wren.”

Wren headed down the hall before turning. “Wanna watch _Star Wars_? I might fall asleep, but… you can stay.”

Connor perked his head up and nodded. He followed Wren to her room and set up _A New Hope_. They settled against the pillows and for a moment, Wren pretended that they were together and in love. Her eyelids drooped as she watched the movie. Her head rested on Connor’s shoulder. “If you fall asleep, I’ll tell you what happens,” Connor murmured, his voice reverberating through his body. Wren felt the vibrations in her sternum.

“Thank you,” she breathed. She closed her eyes.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“So, he asked you to be his date,” said Tina as they walked through rows of mattresses. “Try this one.”

Wren laid on the display and rolled around on it. “Just as friends. He was… very clear about that part.”

“Yeah, because he’s scared shitless to ask you out,” said Tina.

“Too soft,” Wren muttered, scooting off the display. “And no, I think it’s because he didn’t want me to get the wrong impression.” She stopped in her tracks, her face draining of color. “You don’t think he suspects how I feel?”

“Honey, the whole fucking office can see how you feel,” said Tina, patting Wren’s back. “But no. I think he’s clueless. Just like you.” Tina booped Wren’s nose with her finger.

Wren rolled her eyes and tested another mattress. Too firm.

North folded her arms as she walked. “Maybe this could be the opportunity for you to tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah!” said Tina as Wren tried out another mattress. “You’ll both be dressed to the nines.”

“And the gala will be romantic with its lighting and music,” said North. “Perfect for confessing your undying love.”

Wren snorted and slid off the mattress. “I feel like Goldilocks.” She sat on another mattress. “I don’t know… I kind of don’t want to know.”

“Why not?” Tina demanded.

“Because then it’ll be real when he doesn’t reciprocate. Sometimes, when we’re alone together, it almost feels like we’re together. I don’t want that to end just yet,” said Wren, hopping off the display.

“Wren, that’s so _sad_ ,” said North, shaking her head.

Wren gritted her teeth. “You don’t have to make me feel worse.”

“Sorry,” said North. She sighed. “Connor definitely reciprocates. When you tell him how you feel, you’ll see that we were right.”

“Yeah, I’ve got ten bucks on you,” said Tina, plopping down on a display. “Oh, this one feels nice.”

Wren laid beside Tina, staring at the ceiling. “You bet money on me?”

“I’m kidding,” said Tina. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” said Wren, feeling the mattress conform to her body. “But I can’t tell Connor. I feel like that’s taking advantage of him.”

“Connor isn’t stupid,” said North. “He’s capable of turning you down. And I don’t think he’ll say he feels the same out of pity or because he’s confused. You don’t think he’s pestered Hank about this?”

Wren frowned. Hank had figured her out pretty easily and had not told Connor her secret. Was it so ridiculous to consider that perhaps Hank protected Connor’s secrets, too? Her heart twisted for Hank. She propped herself up on her elbows and eyed North. “Then why hasn’t Connor told me?”

“Because he’s a chickenshit like you,” said North. “It’s going to take one of you taking the initiative. Look, let’s make a deal. I’ll talk to Markus if you talk to Connor at the gala.”

Wren narrowed her eyes. “You have to talk to Markus either before or at the gala, not after.”

“Deal,” said North, holding out her hand.

Wren’s heart jumped to her throat. “But what if Connor doesn’t feel the same way?”

North rolled her eyes. “Holy shit, Wren, how can you not see the way he looks at you?”

Wren’s lips twisted. “Probably the same way Connor misses how I look at him.” She sighed and shook North’s hand. “Deal. I’ll tell Connor at the gala if you talk to Markus before or at the gala.”

North nodded, though she looked a little shaken. “Yep.”

Wren jumped off the mattress. “I’ll take this one.”

“Excellent,” said Tina, grinning. “Let’s go dress shopping next.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After purchasing the mattress and leaving it in Wren’s bedroom at the townhouse, North, Tina and Wren stopped at a boutique formal gown shop. Wren sifted through rows of gowns, picking out deep emeralds, royal blues and blacks as her choice of color. She knew how to pick something to fit her body just right. North seemed attracted to black and maroon and gold colors while Tina stuck to purples and greens. They slipped into dressing rooms and dressed into their first gowns. Wren pulled on a royal blue gown with a fitted bodice and thick skirt. She frowned at herself before stepping out. She toyed with the tulle skirt.

“I feel like Cinderella,” she muttered.

“Is that bad?” said Tina, adjusting her boobs in her dusty rose dress.

“It’s not me,” said Wren.

North stepped out in a black, strapless gown. She looked stunning, though she admitted she felt constrained in it.

“That color looks okay, but I think the purple would look best,” said Wren to Tina, who nodded.

“Yeah, I feel like my skin looks grey in this color.”

They returned to their dressing rooms. Wren slipped on a green gown. This one seemed better, with its off-the-shoulder fit and contrast to her hair. She still felt a little odd in it. She stepped out to show North and Tina. Tina wore a strapless green gown and winked at Wren while North stepped out in a black gown. The black suited North, though Wren felt it was a typical choice for her.

“The green looks really pretty with your hair,” said Tina, taking a fingerful of Wren’s hair and braiding it.

“Thank you,” said Wren, beaming. She booped Tina’s nose. “You look lovely in green, too.”

“You look like Poison Ivy,” said Tina, snorting.

Wren’s shoulders slumped. “Well, I don’t want Connor to think I’m a cartoon.”

“She’s not a cartoon, but whatever,” said Tina. “And I’m pretty sure you could wear a fucking paper bag and Connor would still have moon-pie eyes for you.”

Wren wrinkled her nose. “Right.”

“But you won’t be wearing a paper bag,” said North, “you’ll be looking glamorous as fuck.”

Wren grinned. “And Markus will drool over you. Do androids drool?”

“We can… but not really,” said North, smirking.

“Okay, idiots, let’s hope this next one is better,” said Tina. They returned to their dressing rooms. Wren unzipped her gown (with some awkward maneuvering) and let it drop to the floor. She hung it up and paused, examining her reflection. She pinched a faint scar on her side, her lips drawing downward. Her fingers brushed the soft scar from her most recent bullet wound. A thin line scratched her abdomen from where she got slashed. The ointment Dr. Willis gave her seemed to work, but her scars would never fade completely. It would take a lot of serums and ointments to heal the bullet scar.

Clenching her teeth, she dressed into the black gown. It had spaghetti straps and lace around the breast. It sparkled around the bodice and cascaded into an elegant train. It hugged her figure in the right spots. She felt like her seductress self in it, yet still more elegant than she had ever been as an agent for Prometheus.

“Hot damn, Wren,” said Tina, her eyebrows shooting toward her hairline. She looked stunning in her one-shoulder plum gown. North glittered in a sequined gold gown. It was atypical of her, yet still seemed perfect for her.

Wren smiled. “You guys look great.”

“I don’t know,” said North, looking at the gold. “Is this… too much?”

“No, you look like a queen,” said Tina, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, it just seems too light for me,” said North, frowning at herself.

“I like this one the best,” said Wren. “It’s unexpected. You always wear darker colors.”

North scrunched her lips. “Because I look good in them.”

“You look good in this!” insisted Tina.

“You seriously look like some sort of goddess,” said Wren. “Like Athena or something.”

North tilted her head, her eyes glazing over as she searched databases for a reference. Her lips quirked upward when she finished. “Goddess of wisdom and battle strategy? I can get behind that.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “I actually do like it a lot.”

“I can’t decide… Green or purple?” Tina queried.

“I actually think I liked the green on you better,” said Wren, tilting her head. “It fit your body really well. Not to sound weird or anything.”

“Yeah, I think I liked it, too,” said Tina, nodding.

“The green looked really good with your dark hair, too,” said North.

Tina tossed her hair back. “Why, thank you!”

Wren shook her head and hurried back into her dressing room. She changed back into her casual attire and grabbed the black gown. North, Tina and Wren paid for the gowns and left the shop grinning.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“It’s October,” said Tina, typing up some paperwork. “We’re doing something spooky, right?”

Wren grinned. “What kind of spooky are we talking about?”

Tina leaned forward, a sideways smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Evil Visions.”

“What’s that?” Wren queried.

“Oh, fuck that,” said Chris. “I can’t deal with haunted houses.”

“That’s because you’re a wimp,” said Tina. She looked around at them. “So, what do you guys say? Are we goin’?”

“I’m too old for that shit,” said Hank, “but you guys have fun.”

“Boo, whore,” said Tina, jutting her bottom lip out at him. Hank flipped her off. Wren hid her laughter behind her hand. Tina looked at Chris, who shook his head. She turned to Gavin, who also shook his head. Tina gaped. “What the fuck’s your excuse?”

“I’ve got plans this weekend,” said Gavin, leaning back in his chair.

Wren raised a brow. “Oh? Got a hot date?”

“Maybe,” said Gavin, folding his hands behind his head.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Tina, shifting her body to look at him, “someone agreed to go out with you? They like you? For your personality?”

“Shut up,” said Gavin.

“Who’s the unlucky girl? Or boy? I don’t discriminate,” said Wren, grinning.

Gavin glowered at her. “None of your business.”

“But seriously, do they actually know you? I mean, you’re kind of an ass,” said Tina between chuckles.

“Probably just went for his looks,” said Wren.

“I mean, how can you get a date, but I can’t?” demanded Tina.

Gavin tossed a pen at her. “Fuck off. Both of you.”

Wren and Tina snickered. Wren glanced at Connor and winked before returning to her paperwork. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his LED flicker. She tried to hide her smile. Tina swiveled in her chair to face Wren.

“Obviously you’re coming,” she said. Wren nodded. Tina looked at Connor. “Are you?”

Wren froze in her typing and glanced toward him. His eyebrows twitched toward one another. “I’m unsure as to what this event is.”

“It’s a haunted house attraction,” said Tina. She bounced in her seat. “You know, people in masks jump out and scare you.”

Connor tilted his head. “You… enjoy this sort of thing?”

“Yeah!” said Tina. “I fucking love Halloween. Haunted houses only happen during this time of year and I can’t go by myself. It’s more fun with a group of people.”

“Well, there’s one haunted house that’s year-round,” said Gavin.

“Fuck that place. I want to be scared not scarred,” said Tina without even glancing at him.

Connor frowned. “What place?”

“McKamey Manor,” said Gavin. “Their son runs it now, but they basically torture you there. Like, actually torture you. They post videos of it online.”

Wren puckered her brow. “People pay to get tortured?”

“It’s very cheap,” said Gavin.

“Have you done it?” said Tina.

“Hell no,” replied Gavin.

Tina snorted. She looked at Connor again. “So? Are you in or not?”

Connor glanced at Wren, who lifted her eyebrows at him. He turned back to Tina. “I suppose.”

Tina punched the air. “Yes!” She relaxed in her seat. “I’m inviting North and the others, too. You guys need the full human experience, and that includes Halloween festivities. Which reminds me, Wren –I host an annual scary movie party every Hallow’s Eve. We need decorations and party supplies and whatnot. But that’s still a few weeks away.”

Wren laughed and nodded. “Got it.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren and Connor stood outside a flat building in downtown Detroit at nine o’clock in the evening. Wren folded her arms to keep her core warm as a crisp breeze rippled through the street. She bounced from foot to foot to keep warm. The doors to Evil Visions were wide open, with flashing red lights and metal music playing.

Tina walked toward them from a parking lot across the street. She scurried across the street, grinning. “I’m freaking nervous.”

Wren laughed. “It’s just people in masks.”

“They’re still scary,” said Tina.

Connor’s lips twitched. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Because it makes you feel alive,” replied Tina.

Connor’s brow pinched together. “Being scared makes you feel alive?”

Wren nodded. “It’s adrenaline,” she explained. “There’s nothing like a close encounter with death to make you feel more alive.”

“Plus, it’s spooky and I love all things spooky, even if it scares the shit out of me,” added Tina.

Wren snorted and rolled her eyes. She looked up and down the street and spotted a group of three walking toward them. As the group neared, Wren realized it was North, Markus and Josh.

Tina stepped forward. “I have some rules for you androids. No using special abilities like night vision or whatever. You have to experience this with no advantages.”

North’s mouth stretched with a mischievous grin. “Deal.”

“Are we ready?” Markus asked.

“Hell yeah,” said Tina. The six of them entered the dark building. They paid for their tickets.

The cashier extended a skinny arm to the left. A wide grin spread across her cheeks. “Please enter the hallway. Welcome to Evil Visions!”

Wren and the others started down the hall. Tina looked around in the darkness. “Wren, don’t fucking let go of my hand, I swear!”

Wren snorted and gripped Tina’s hand. The two of them followed Markus and North into a wide area. A girl with bloody makeup on her face stood by a doorway, where screams and revving chainsaws sounded from within. The girl extended a hand with a blank expression.

Wren and the others handed over their tickets. The girl took them and stepped to the side. She said nothing as she gestured for them to enter.

Wren dipped her head and followed Markus and North inside.

A grotesque-looking woman sat at a desk. She held a baseball bat and banged it on the desk. Tina whimpered.

“Fresh meat!” shouted the woman. She tilted her head. “Oh, we’ve got us an android!” She approached Connor, who regarded her calmly, though his LED flickered. The woman moved to Wren and Tina, who trembled and shrank behind Wren. “What’s the matter, girlie? You scared?” The haunter drew closer to Wren and Tina, who hid her face.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Tina breathed, covering her face with her free hand.

“I got a few rules!” said the haunter, backing away abruptly. “Don’t take the props! Do not hit or touch or spit on my haunters! You paid to be here, so don’t abuse them. And please, scream as much as you like.” The haunter gestured to the doorway and grinned sinisterly. “Have fun.”

Markus and North led the way, Connor following with Wren and Tina. Josh took up the rear. Tina staggered behind, hiding her face. “Oh God, oh Jesus, shit, fuck, I forgot how scary these things are…”

Wren giggled as they entered the next room. It seemed empty until two clowns jumped up on the desk and screamed. Tina let out a screech and backed against the wall, dragging Wren with her.

“Helloooo, kiddies!” cooed one clown. She jumped down and inched toward Wren and Tina, tilting her head from side to side. “Oh, looks like we’ve got a scaredy cat!”

“Oh boy!” said the other clown. He jumped down and cornered Wren and Tina. Wren smiled nervously as the two clowns neared. Tina hid her face, cowering behind Wren. Both clowns stooped toward Tina.

“Look at me!” squealed the girl.

“No, me!” said the boy.

“No!” Tina cried.

“You’re not leaving till you look us in the eye!” shouted the girl.

“LOOK AT ME!” roared the boy, banging the wall. Wren flinched, grinning as Tina whimpered and shoved Wren forward.

“Move, move, move!” Tina cried.

Wren laughed and moved forward, but the clowns blocked her path. “LOOK AT US!”

“Tina, just look at them!” North cried.

The clowns looked at each other. “Tina? Tina? Tina! Tina! Is that your name, sweetie?” cooed the girl clown.

The boy tilted his head back and roared: “OUR SQUEALER’S NAME IS TINA!!!”

From the other rooms in the building, several haunters chorused, “TINA!”

Wren shook her head, grinning. She tugged Tina along, who groaned. “They know my name, they know my name!”

“Way to go, North,” laughed Wren. They moved through the next few rooms, where the haunters got right in Tina’s face. Tina never failed to let out a bloodcurdling scream. Wren giggled for the most part, though she did jump when a machine from above blew air on her.

Josh snickered. “Really, Wren? That’s what got you?”

They entered a room with a long table. The room seemed empty, save for the head in the middle of the table. They shuffled past it until the head opened its eyes. “Hello.” 

“What the fuck?” hissed Josh, dancing away from the table.

Wren laughed. “Really, Josh, that’s that got you?”

“Shut up.”

They continued walking through, now more huddled together. Wren had no idea when she started holding the back of Connor’s jacket, but she clutched it so tightly that the fabric wrinkled around her grip. They entered a room that looked like butcher’s hall. Fake pig carcasses hung from the ceiling. Markus led the group through the maze of pigs. Wren looked around in the dim yellow of the room. She knew something was about to jump out at them, but she had no idea where the haunter concealed themselves. Out of the corner of the room, a large, muscular man in overalls and no shirt jumped out, cackling. He wore a pig mask and wielded a large knife. He charged toward them.

“Fuck that!” cried North. She leaped over a table and sprinted out of the room.

“North, wait!” laughed Markus, running after her.

Wren broke her grip on Connor’s jacket. Tina screamed and jerked backward, yanking Wren with her. They crashed into Josh, who yelped. Connor ducked around the pig-man and turned, his lips quirking. He backed toward the door, but waited for the others. Wren gripped Tina’s sweaty hand in hers and dragged her toward the exit, Josh pushing her along as the pig-man screamed at them.

They broke into the dark hall, panting. Markus and North waited, grinning and standing close together. Wren raised an eyebrow at them. She glanced at Tina, who clutched her chest.

“Damn, that was one scary dude,” she muttered.

Wren snickered. “Yeah, definitely.”

They moved to the next area, where a woman sucked in a rattling breath. Immediately, she zeroed in on Tina, who hid behind Wren, clutching fistfuls of Wren’s shirt. The woman walked toward them, swiveling her head like a snake’s. She licked her dirty teeth. “I’ve got a tombstone with your name on it!” she spat at Wren and Tina.

Wren giggled while Tina hid her face. The woman peered extremely close to Tina, forcing her way in between Wren and Tina. Wren let go of Tina, who cried out. Wren grinned as she stood by Connor. Tina screamed when the woman screamed right in her face.

“Wren! Wren!” Tina cried, crouching on the floor. Wren strode forward, extending a hand. The haunter wheeled on Wren.

“Hello, Wren!” she sang.

Wren laughed. “Hello. Can I get my friend, please?”

The woman sneered. “Be my guest.”

Wren helped Tina stand and led her into the next hall, the woman following. A man leaped toward them with a screech. Tina screamed and dropped to the floor, breaking her grip on Wren’s hand. The woman and man cornered her while she buried her face in her hands.

“Look me in the eye!” shrieked the man.

“No, God, please, no!”

“Look at me!”

“NO!”

“You’re not leaving till you look at me!”

“No, I can’t!”

“LOOK AT ME!”

The woman turned to Wren. “What’s her name?”

Wren blinked. “I ain’t no snitch.”

“It’s Tina,” said Josh.

Wren gaped at him. “ _Josh_!”  

“Tina!” hissed the woman, banging the wall right beside Tina, who jumped and hid her face.

“Get up, Tina,” cooed the man, right in poor Tina’s face.

“I can’t!”

Wren looked at Connor, who pushed his eyebrows together. He stepped forward and helped Tina to her feet. She buried her face in Connor’s side as he led her away. Wren’s lips twitched and her heart warmed to see Connor so caring. They rounded the corner, leaving the two haunters behind. A clown with black paint on her face grinned, flashing bloodied teeth.

“Let me see your tippy toes!” she cried. Everyone looked at their feet as the clown girl shined a flashlight at their shoes. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” said Josh.

The clown smiled. “For fun!”

“That’s why we came here!” Wren grinned.

The clown let out a high-pitched giggle and stepped aside. Still in character, she said, “Watch your step, guys!”

Wren followed Markus, North, Connor and Tina up a set of steps. A slide descended into darkness below. Wren grinned and sat on it. “Murder slide!” She slid down first, listening to Markus and North’s chuckles. The others followed and Wren led them through the next few rooms. Tina still screamed at every haunter. Wren sensed that they were nearing the end of the haunt. A room ahead flashed with a strobe light. Wren stepped inside and froze. Cockroaches littered the walls. Wren backed away, shaking her head.

“Fuck that, I don’t do bugs.” She shimmied in between Markus and North and slammed into Connor, her chest pressed against his back. She rounded behind him, still shaking her head.

“Wren, they’re fake,” said North.

Wren shook her head. “They _look_ like they’re moving.”

North took Tina’s hand and headed through with Markus and Josh. Connor lingered behind for Wren. “You can close your eyes. I’ll lead you.”

Wren looked at him, swallowed, and nodded. She gripped his hand but buried her face in his back as he led her through the cockroach room. They entered a room that had “CHOOSE YOUR FATE” painted in fake blood on the walls. Two extended from either room.

“They probably converge,” said Josh.

“Then let’s go right,” said Markus, gesturing. They entered the dark hall, in which fake body parts hung. Wren still held Connor’s hand and trailed behind him slightly. It seemed they had reached the end, but Wren doubted that cockroaches were the last scare.

Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, Wren heard the revving of chainsaw. Her heart leaped to her throat. The chainsaw haunter was close enough that Wren could smell the gasoline from the weapon. She charged forward, dragging Connor with her in a dead sprint.

“WREN!” shrieked Tina.

Wren kept running with Connor. They burst into the night, cold air washing over them. The man with the chainsaw still chased them. Wren released Connor’s hand to jump over a rail. She wheeled, heaving and eyeing the man with the chainsaw, who lumbered back inside to torment Tina and the others.

Wren looked at Connor, who stood on the other side of the handrail Wren jumped over. He walked around it to join her, a smirk toying with his lips.

Wren nudged him. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I could _feel_ you about to say something.”

“You know me that well?”

“I’d like to think I do,” Wren answered, peering at Connor with a small smile. His faltered. Wren noticed how close Connor was to her, how little effort it would take for her to brush her lips against his.

Tina’s screams interrupted their moment, jerking Wren and Connor’s attention toward their friend, who ran out of Evil Visions with her hands in the air. North, Markus and Josh ran out after her, wide-eyed. They didn’t scream, but they looked panicked enough. North pushed Markus and Josh out of the way as the man with the chainsaw followed closely behind.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU BOTH SO SLOW?” North roared, running out. Markus and Josh doubled over, laughing. The man with the chainsaw returned to his spot inside. North’s footsteps thudded to a stop as she joined Wren and Connor. Tina joined them, wheezing.

“My voice is going to be so fucking sore tomorrow,” she said, rubbing her throat.

“I can’t imagine why,” Wren snorted.

“That really wasn’t that bad, though,” said Tina. “I mean, I’m super extra and I like to scream.”

Wren chuckled, shaking her head. She grinned at Josh. “Pretty sure I heard Josh let out a yelp here and there.”

Josh scowled at her. “You can’t prove it.”

“I can,” said Connor.

“Yeah, me too,” smirked North.

“I think the only one of us who didn’t freak out was Connor,” said Markus, raising his eyebrows at Connor and crossing his arms.

Connor raised his own eyebrows and shrugged. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Connor’s walking through there like he’s walking down the street or something,” said Tina.

“Or at the grocery store,” laughed Wren. “I was fine until the very end.”

“Wren, I saw your damn wig _fly_ at the end. I saw your red-ass hair going _whoosh_ _whoosh_ as you deadass _sprinted_ out of there and left us behind!” Tina wheezed.

Wren giggled and covered her mouth. “I don’t mess around with guys with chainsaws!”

“Tina, you were on the fucking floor most of the time,” snickered North.

“Oh my God, I know. I’m so dramatic. I hate myself sometimes,” replied Tina, grinning. She huffed. “Well, I had fun guys. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Yeah, I really enjoyed it,” said North, embracing Tina.

“You guys are coming to Wren’s and my Halloween party, right?” Tina asked, hugging Markus and high-fiving Josh.

“Of course,” said Connor as Tina hugged him. His LED flickered.

Tina waved to Wren. “See you at the house.” She turned and headed down the street.

“We’re gonna head out, too,” said Markus. He patted Connor’s shoulder while North and Wren hugged.

“See you around,” said North.

“See you,” Wren replied. She hugged Josh. She backed away. “I need to give you your books back!”

“Stop by anytime,” said Josh, smiling as he waved.

Wren nodded. “I will!”

She and Connor watched their friends disappear up the street. She turned to Connor, watching his LED flicker yellow. It returned to blue as he met her gaze. Wren hugged herself as a breeze swept through the side lot.

“Are you cold?” Connor queried.

Wren clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. “I can handle it until we get to the car.” Connor shrugged off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. Wren tugged it around her, pressing her lips together in an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Connor, leading the way to the car. He withdrew the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car.

“Sorry I pretty much mowed you down in there,” Wren replied.

Connor’s lips twitched. “You _leaped_ over that rail. It was entertaining.”

Wren laughed. Connor glanced at her, his lips parting. He looked away and started the car, turning up the heat. Wren gazed out the window. “I guess I should’ve ridden with Tina.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I know. But I feel bad.”

“You could stay at Hank’s tonight,” Connor suggested slowly.

Wren glanced at him. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

Connor frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Wren shrugged and looked at her hands. “I don’t know.”

Silence stretched between them for several seconds. Then, Connor muttered, “Do you not want to stay?”

“No, that’s not it,” said Wren. “I just didn’t know if it’d be weird since Hank isn’t expecting me to be there.”

“I don’t think it would surprise him,” said Connor. He flexed his fingers. “We could watch the next _Star Wars_ movie. It’s not that late.”

Wren nodded. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

Connor’s lips quirked upward. “Great.”

They returned to Hank’s house. Wren borrowed some of Connor’s loungewear at his request. He stepped out of the room and she crawled onto the bed. Connor entered the room when Wren called for him and paused in the doorway, staring at her. Wren looked away from him, her cheeks warming. Connor’s LED flickered as he set up the movie and sat next to her.

“Sorry I wrinkled your jacket,” said Wren.

Connor hummed in amusement. “I didn’t mind.”

Wren leaned against him as the movie played. She tried to ignore the throbbing in her chest as she watched Leia and Han Solo pronounce their love for one another. Why couldn’t she and Connor have that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later update, guys. Next chapter is going to be a dooezy, though! (We've got a Halloween party AND the gala!!!) I'm so excited to write the gala scene and I'm going to take a bit more time to work on it, especially since I have another paper due next week. Bear with me, guys! I'm behind on pretty much everything, including writing and it's been stressing me out. But school comes first. Plus, I want to make sure the gala chapter is good, so don't be surprised if it's a later update! Anyway, I'm off on a tangent. Thank you guys for your continued support! I love y'all!   
> Also, the scene in the haunted house was based off of a real place. I went and did that with my friends a few weekends ago and it was freaking hysterical.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Connor carried a tray of Halloween-themed cookies, Hank in tow. Hank reached out a hand and knocked on the door. Tina answered it, grinning. She wore a black leather body suit, a utility belt and a mask.

**«scanning» ◄Costume purchased from Spirit Halloween Superstore___Catwoman►**

“Hey, guys! I love your costumes!” She stood to the side, allowing Connor and Hank entrance.

“Yeah, we’re only dressed up because you insisted,” muttered Hank.  

“It’s Halloween. Duh, I’m gonna insist. Besides, it’s Connor’s first Halloween.” Tina used her foot to push back a tabby cat. “No, Maggie. She likes to run out sometimes.”

Connor smiled down at the cat, who rubbed against his legs. He met Tina’s gaze. “Where would you like these?”

“Oh, I’ll take them,” said Tina, grabbing the tray. She closed the door with her foot and nodded her head toward the living room. “You can guys can make yourselves comfortable!”

Connor walked past the black-and-white kitchen, into which Tina disappeared. He passed the stairs and entered the wide living room area. His eyebrows lifted as he gazed around the room. Fake cobwebs decorated the walls, along with streamers adorned with little bats. A marquee sign hung on the wall, lit with: _Boo!_

Wren stood on a stepladder, hanging up jack-o-lantern paper lanterns. Her hair bounced into loose curls—long enough that it now reached past her shoulders—and it appeared as though she wore a floor-length emerald gown. Wren peered over her shoulder, a smile tugging at the corner of her crimson mouth.

“You guys are early,” she greeted. She finished hanging the jack-o-lantern lights and turned around. Connor’s thirium pump jumped to his throat. She wore a bodice that looked like ivy leaves composed it. Her skirt lacked a front, leaving her legs rather bare. Bracelets dressed to look like ivy leaves circled up her arms. Green eyeshadow brought out her eyes and crimson lipstick plumped her lips. She wore gold heels and stepped down the ladder with the grace of a cat.

“Poison Ivy, huh?” Hank guessed.

Wren grinned. “It was Tina’s idea.”

“Not bad,” Hank praised.

Wren winked and looked them over. “Frankenstein and Dracula?”

Connor nodded and bared his teeth, showing off the fangs he found at the Halloween Superstore. Wren peered into his mouth.

“Nice,” she praised. “They look real.”

“We used a mold to custom-fit them to my teeth,” Connor explained as Wren withdrew.

“Yeah? Who did Hank’s makeup?” Wren asked.

“I did my own makeup, thank you,” said Hank. “I’m a heavy metal fan. You think I haven’t dressed up for concerts before?”

Wren held up her hands, grinning. “Sorry.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Connor asked.

Wren peered around. “I think I’m done decorating. You guys can help set up the table.”

Connor and Hank worked on bringing food to the party table in the back of the living room, adorned with an orange tablecloth and sprinkled with black bat confetti. Connor tried to avoid looking at Wren too much. Every time she bent over, exposing a bit of cleavage, or swept through the room and flaunted her toned and very bare legs, he experienced a system heat warning. He also did not want to offend her by staring. He knew how she felt about men who undressed her with their eyes—not that he would ever think about Wren naked. The thought burned his cheeks and he quickly stepped out of the room to grab the last tray of food. Hank grabbed the drinks.

“You okay, kid? You look a little… sick.”

Connor straightened. “Androids don’t get sick.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not supposed to have free will either, but… here we are,” said Hank, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

Connor shifted and looked around. Tina and Wren chatted in the other room, setting up the scary movie queue. He leaned toward Hank and lowered his voice. “How do you deal with… certain thoughts that are… inappropriate?”

Hank stared at Connor for a few seconds. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, kid.”

Connor’s face warmed. He looked around and considered dropping the subject, but he figured that he needed Hank’s guidance more. “You know how I feel about…” Connor jerked his head toward the living room.

Hank’s eyes flicked in that direction, where Wren’s laughter echoed down the hall, before looking back to Connor. The older man’s eyes widened a fraction. “Are you… Are you saying that you’ve got a… a… y’know… a _boner_?”

Connor’s eyes stretched and thirium colored his cheeks. “ _No_!” He glanced over his shoulder to ensure that neither Tina nor Wren stood within earshot. He shifted closer to Hank, just in case. “She looks… _pretty_ isn’t the right word…” Connor searched for the word. “ _Sexy_.”

Hank bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, careful not to drop the two-liter tucked under his arm. “Jesus, Connor. I don’t fuckin’ know. If you’re having… thoughts… Then you need to just think of something else or fuckin’ flirt with her. Stop mopin’ around and take action.”

Connor wrinkled his brow for a brief moment before jerking his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me, kid,” said Hank, shaking his head. He moved toward the hall, stopped and faced Connor. “I don’t ever want to hear the word ‘sexy’ come out of your mouth again, though.”

Connor’s lips twitched and nodded once. “Got it.”

As they finished setting up the table, North, Markus and Josh arrived. They resembled the Avengers. Markus wore a Captain America costume, North dressed as Black Widow, and Josh wore an Iron Man costume. North grinned as she laid eyes on Tina and Wren. 

“You guys went for the villain look, I see,” she greeted.

“Bad girls have more fun,” said Tina with a wink.

Connor pressed his lips together, thankful for the dark lighting to hide his blush as Wren posed for a brief moment. She dissolved into laughter at herself, doubling over. Connor’s lips twitched.

Markus beamed at Connor. “You went for the classic vampire. I like it.”

“Thank you,” said Connor, flashing his fangs.

Josh raised his eyebrows. “Those are so cool! They’re those custom-fit kind, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“You know, there are some androids talking about starting their own Halloween business. Or costume store in general. They want to make add-ons for androids,” said Josh.

“I’m glad that there are some android entrepreneurs out there,” said Connor. They mingled a bit longer as Gavin and Chris—along with Chris’s wife, Skye—trickled in. Tina and Wren flitted from guest to guest, not spending too long with one person. Wren finally circled back around to Connor.

“I really dig the cape,” she said. “You should wear it to work.”

The corners of Connor’s mouth tugged upward. “I’m afraid a cape would be impractical.”

“Damn,” said Wren.

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat. “That dress… Your costume… It suits you.”

Wren looked toward him, her lips tilting into smirk. “Thank you. I’m afraid that it’s also impractical.”

“Very,” Connor breathed, glancing down at it. He wanted to say that he could probably think of a few ways in which that outfit was not entirely impractical, though he did not want to come across as too forward or feel his attempt at innuendo fall flat. He caught himself looking at Wren’s cherry lips. He flicked his gaze to her eyes.

“Okay! So, there’s tons of food and chairs and whatnot. But this is first and foremost a scary movie night. But some of us have never been to a costume party, so that’s why I requested you wear them. But, please, make yourselves comfortable. Would you all rather watch a slasher or a supernatural horror film first?” said Tina, standing in front of the TV.

“Supernatural,” called Chris, sitting beside his wife in the loveseat to the left of the TV. “We get enough gore at work.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were scared, Miller,” said Gavin, sitting in the armchair to the right of the TV. He pulled off his werewolf gloves and clasped his hands in front of him.

“Uh huh,” said Chris. “You got me.”

Connor and Wren sat beside one another on the L-shaped couch. Everyone squished together on the couch. Hank sat next to Connor. North sat on the other side of Hank, Markus beside her and Josh beside Markus. Connor’s hand brushed Wren’s thigh. He swallowed the lump in his throat and shifted in his seat. Tina set up the movie. It was a newer one, depicting a demon haunting a convent. Wren pulled her knees up and sat on them. While one of the protagonists walked through a dark hallway, a shadowy figure stepped in the background. Wren shrank back. At a jump scare, she yelped.

“You gotta be kidding me,” said Gavin. “Wren, you literally chased down a murderer in an alley and held your own against a guy twice your size. You’re scared of this shit?”

“Yeah, you were fine at Evil Visions!” said Tina, grinning.

“Except when the guy with the chainsaw came out,” muttered North.

“Okay, I don’t deal with dudes with chainsaws or freaking demons. If it turns out this place is haunted, bye, I’ll go live in a box. I don’t care. I’m not risking it,” said Wren.

Tina and a few others laughed. Connor smiled. He found it difficult to concentrate on the movie, for Wren squished against him. He felt her body tense whenever she anticipated a jump scare. He felt her flinch at the very jump scares she anticipated. Her body vibrated with laughter. Connor laced his own fingers together to resist the urge to hold Wren’s hand. He glanced over at Chris and Skye. Chris draped an arm over Skye’s shoulders and held her close. He occasionally whispered something in her ear. She chuckled and shook her head. Connor slid his gaze toward Wren and watched her out of the corner of his eye. He wanted that with her. He just wanted to see her smile every day. He wanted to feel her in his arms.

Connor lowered his gaze to the floor. But why would she ever choose to be with him?

After the movie ended, Chris and Skye left. They wanted some time alone before they returned home to their baby. While Tina set up the next film, Gavin looked at North. Hank moved to the loveseat to provide more room.

“Hey, North, right?” Gavin queried.

“Yes?” said North, tilting her head.

“Did it hurt?” Gavin grinned.

“When I fell from heaven?” North flashed back.

“No, when you broke the earth’s crust crawling out of hell,” said Gavin.

“Hey, Gavin,” called Wren. Gavin looked at her. “Did it hurt?”

“Really, you’re gonna flash the same joke back at me?” Gavin retorted.

“I just want to know if it hurt when you fell out of the fuckboy tree and hit every goddamn branch on the way down,” said Wren.

North and Tina laughed. Gavin flipped Wren off, but Wren merely smirked. She leaned into Connor as she settled in to watch the slasher film. Connor and the others found this one far more amusing.

“Let me get this straight: Their car has a flat tire, so… They’re looking for help in the woods?” Josh queried while North tried to muffle her snickering behind her hand.

“Yeah, good luck findin’ a fuckin’ mechanic in the middle of the goddamn woods,” said Hank.

They watched for a bit more. The villain drugged the two girls’ drinks. One of them drank half of her glass while the other only took a small sip. Yet, they both fell unconscious at the same time. The protagonist woke before the other girl to find herself strapped to a bed.

“Can’t she lean over and use her teeth to untie her wrist, though? It looks like she’s tied down with just a belt,” said Wren.

Connor narrowed his eyes as he examined the film. “Yeah, it looks like she could.”

The protagonist, of course, waited until the last possible second to lean over and use her teeth to remove her restraints. Wren groaned.

“Oh, lord. Just drown yourself. You’re too stupid to escape,” she said as the protagonist tried to hide in the killer’s swimming pool—without going underwater.

The rest of the movie showed even more stupidity, on which everyone eventually stopped commenting. When the movie ended, Tina laughed. “We’re all too dumbfounded to say anything.”

They played cards while a happy Halloween movie played in the background. Gavin left halfway through the game. After the movie, Hank stood. He looked at Connor. “Ready?”

Connor nodded and stood as well. Markus, North and Josh said their goodbyes and left, but Hank and Connor took their time walking to the front door. Wren hugged Hank, who tried not to smile as he trudged to his car. Connor lingered in the doorway. Wren folded her arms across her chest.

“Thank you for coming,” she murmured.

“Of course,” said Connor, smiling slightly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course,” Wren returned. Connor’s lips twitched. Wren bounced on the balls of her feet. “Well, uh, I better help Tina clean up. I’ll see you at work.”

“Right,” Connor replied. “I will see you at work.” He left the house and got into the car.

“So?” Hank asked. “Did you kiss her?”

“No,” muttered Connor. “I didn’t feel it was the appropriate time. Besides, I… I don’t think she feels the same way.”

“Why not?”

Connor loosened the ties of his cape, but it failed to alleviate the swollen feeling in his throat. “Because I’m an android, Hank.”

“So? You’re a catch,” Hank argued.

Connor looked out the window. He waited for the illumination in the car to disappear as they passed under a streetlamp. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you know it’s more complicated than that. She told me about her date a few weeks ago. He expressed disgust for a human and android out together.”

“You’re forgetting that Wren defended the couple and ended the date early,” said Hank.

“I’m not. Supporting human and android relationships is one thing, but participating in one is entirely different.”

“She’s your friend,” insisted Hank. “That’s a human and android relationship.”

“You know what I mean,” Connor muttered.

“I do,” sighed Hank, “but she’s a cyborg. Why would she have reservations about it? And she’s told me about her past relationship with an android named Juno.”

Connor’s thirium pump regulator seemed to twist in his abdomen. “She never publicly dated Juno, though.”

“You’re makin’ excuses now.”

Connor tightened his jaw and looked at his hands.

Hank huffed. “What’s really scaring you about this, kid?”

Connor’s eyes pricked with tears. “Other than the obvious possibility of rejection?”

“I don’t think she’ll reject you. You know that girl cares for you.”

“Caring for me as family and as a… a romantic _partner_ is different.”

“Did you see the way that girl lit up when she saw you? Or when you told her she looked good? Do you not notice how she always stands by you? Jesus, I thought you were able to read people better than that, Con,” said Hank.

Connor opened and closed his mouth. “I wasn’t equipped to… for _this_.”

“Guess not,” said Hank. He looked at Connor as he parked the car in the driveway. “Look, forget your fear of rejection just for a moment. What else is holding you back?”

Connor lowered his gaze. He swallowed. “I don’t want her to face judgment for being with me. What if she starts to resent me because people don’t approve?”

“Not everyone is gonna approve,” said Hank quietly. “You can’t live seeking everyone’s approval.”

“It’s not just about approval, though. There are still a lot of people who hate androids, and our progress as a species only fuels their hatred more. I can handle it. But I don’t want Wren to be a target for that hatred, too.”

“Look, Connor,” said Hank, shifting in his seat to look at Connor more directly. Connor avoided Hank’s gaze. “People suck sometimes. You know that people used to keep people of different colors from being together? People kept other human beings from marrying, simply because useless and stupid hatred. I’d like to think that we’ve progressed a little. The point is, there will always be people who hate simply because they’re idiots and have got nothin’ better goin’ on in their lives. It took some very brave people to take a stand, despite the discrimination and backlash. There are always gonna be bigots and idiots in this world. But we’ve gotta be smarter, stronger and braver than them. Our voices have to drown theirs out, and the only way that’s gonna happen is if brave people stand up and speak.”

Connor’s eyes swam with tears. “I’m not Markus, though.”

“You don’t have to be fuckin’ robo-Jesus or anything to be a voice. Sometimes, you just need to be brave enough to love. Look, I’m talkin’ out of my ass here. The gist of what I’m saying is that you need to be brave. This world always needs more love, and I think you and Wren have it. You just need to stop pussyfootin’ and fuckin’ tell each other how you feel and tell the people who stand against you to suck it. Love is greater than hatred. Got it?” Hank stared at Connor until the android looked at him.

“Got it,” Connor managed.

“Good,” said Hank, dipping his head. He patted Connor’s shoulder. “C’mon, it’s getting cold in here.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next several days dragged. Connor knew that time, logically, had not slowed at all. However, he now understood the concept of time slowing to a crawl, especially when anticipating something. He double and triple checked his tux. He showered every day, even though he only needed to shower once a week. As the day of the gala neared, Connor’s biocomponents felt as if they were vibrating with electricity.

“Hank,” Connor said the night before the gala, “I want to show Wren… How does one ‘flirt?’”

Hank nearly choked on his whiskey. The older man refused to quit drinking entirely, but his habits improved with Connor’s supervision. Connor allowed the occasional drink with the intention of cutting them out entirely, or at least at the house. Hank lifted a brow. “You don’t have a flirting relations program or something like that?”

Connor tilted his head. “I was programmed to adapt to human unpredictability, including situations involving seduction—”

“I don’t need to hear that,” said Hank with a wince. He sighed and leaned forward. “Look. I’d use the gala to ask her out on a real date, but you gotta set up the mood.”

Connor shifted. “How do I do that?”

“Do romantic gestures. Make sure to compliment her. Dance with her. Open the door for her. Offer to get her a drink. Just show her some affection that you normally restrain yourself from doing. I mean, don’t push her to anything uncomfortable… Jesus, I’m terrible at this sort of thing.” Hank dragged his fingers through his hair.

“No, that helps,” said Connor, pinching his brow. “Thank you.”

Connor spent the next day in anxiety. He forced himself to enter into standby mode for a few hours to catch up on some rest, as well as to let the time pass. When he awoke, he dressed into his tuxedo. He examined himself in the mirror for a few seconds before adding the dinosaur cufflinks that Wren got him. He smiled to himself before stepping out of his room and entering the living room. He spread out his arms.

“What do you think?”

“Lookin’ sharp, kid,” said Hank. “Is she coming here or what?”

“We all plan to meet at Jericho,” said Connor.

“Alright, let’s go,” said Hank, grunting as he pulled himself from his chair. Connor fiddled with his cufflinks the whole drive there. Hank glanced at him. “Relax, kid. Try to have fun. Don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to tonight.”

Connor swallowed and nodded stiffly. They stopped at Jericho, where they both exited the car and entered the lobby. Markus and Josh waited there, both wearing three-piece suits and bow-ties like Connor’s.

“I feel like you guys are goin’ to prom or something tonight,” said Hank, his hands in his pockets.

Markus smiled. “Well, that’s appropriate since none of us have ever been to something like that.”

“Where’s North?” Connor queried.

“Still upstairs with Tina and Wren,” said Josh, jerking his head toward the elevator. “They’re finishing up.”

“Probably just wanna make an entrance,” muttered Hank.

Josh smirked. Markus raised a brow and shook his head. Connor glanced toward the elevator, which showed the floor numbers as it passed them. It descended to the lobby and dinged open to reveal North, Tina and Wren. All three women looked beautiful, but Connor’s mouth fell open when he laid eyes on Wren.

**«Pr0c3ss1ng» b2ggd293IHNoZSdzIHNvIHByZXR0eQ==**

Her black gown hugged her figure. A slit showed off some leg. Her hair cascaded in loose curls to one side. She wore makeup that accentuated her natural beauty. She always seemed so relaxed and casual with how she dressed. Connor suddenly understood how she succeeded in seduction for espionage. However, she did not seem dangerously seductive. Instead, she looked _stunning_.

She grinned as she approached. Hank beamed at her. “Well, kiddo, you don’t look half-bad.”

Wren snorted. “Well, I didn’t want Connor to be the only one looking good. I actually tried for once.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Hank. “You know you’re always beautiful.”

Wren beamed. “Thank you.” She kissed Hank’s cheek, and Connor detected a rise in the lieutenant’s temperature.

Connor and Wren faced one another. He gazed at her, his lips still parted. He cleared his throat. “You… You look very pretty.”

The apples of Wren’s cheeks popped as she smiled. “Thank you. So do you,” she said. She lifted her eyebrows. “I mean, not pretty—unless you want to be pretty, I’m not trying to enforce gender norms or anything—but you look good.”

Connor smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He held out his elbow to her. She looped her arm through his and they walked out to the limo with the others.

He tried to force himself to relax on the drive to the gala, but he seemed hyperaware of Wren’s movements. Every time her shoulder brushed his arm, he tensed. Connor glanced at Markus, who gazed at North whenever she looked elsewhere. Markus caught Connor’s eye.

**//Message Received: Markus//**

**|Accept?|**

**[Yes] [No]**

**[Yes]**

**You okay?**

Connor sucked in a superfluous breath before sending back a message.

**Connor: That depends on your definition.**

**Markus: I take that as a no, then.**

**Connor: Do I look uncomfortable?**

Markus smirked across the limo.

**Markus: A little bit.**

**Connor: So do you.**

Markus scowled.

**Markus: Damn.**

**Connor: Hank thinks I should use tonight as the setting to tell Wren.**

**Markus: Do you want to?**

**Connor: I don’t know.**

**Markus: Don’t rush anything.**

**Connor: If I took your advice, nothing would happen between Wren and me.**

Markus’s scowl deepened.

**Markus: What is that supposed to mean?**

**Connor: You keep pushing North away. How long are you going to keep doing that because you’re scared that she only loves the idea of you?**

Markus snorted.

**Markus: You’re perceptive about everyone but yourself.**

The corners of Connor’s mouth tightened.

**Connor: I can’t seem to read Wren.**

**Markus: Well, she was trained hide things, wasn’t she?**

**Connor: Yes.**

**Markus: Then don’t blame yourself.**

**Connor: You’re avoiding the question.**

**Markus: Connor… It’s complicated.**

**Connor: It doesn’t have to be.**

**Markus: You should listen to yourself.**

**Connor: _It’s complicated_. **

Markus cut off the connection with a roll of his eyes. Connor offered his friend a brief smile, which Markus reluctantly returned. The limo slowed to a stop and they exited it. Connor held out a hand to Wren, remembering Hank’s advice. She beamed up at him and drew her coat around her. It was a clear night, though it was cold enough for it to snow. They walked up the steps and entered the gala, held in a grand ballroom in downtown Detroit.

Connor widened his eyes as he gazed around the vast room. White and yellow roses decorated the pillars of the room. Blue banners adorned the stage near the back, where a quartet played waltz melodies. Connor suspected that Markus would give a speech later as well. An announcer proclaimed Markus, North, Josh and Connor’s arrival, resulting in clapping from the audience. Connor’s face burned.

“Thank the universe, they have alcohol,” muttered Tina.

“Unfortunately, this is probably going to be a more formal party,” said Josh.

“So no dancing on tables, Tina,” North quipped.

Tina wrinkled her nose. “As if I’d ever do that.” Her eyes flicked to Wren. “She’s the dancer of the group.”

“Uh, I am too,” said North.

“Oh. Yeah, but you kind of refuse to do it. Wren’s not scared to do it.”

“I am here,” said Wren, looking around with wide eyes.

“Connor, I want to introduce you to Senator Atlas Montgomery. He’s been working with us closely for android rights, as well as in human relations,” said Markus.

Connor stiffened. **|. . . Processing . . .ATLAS MONTGOMERY► Known (former) associate of WREN ►Warning: Conflict|**

Wren gripped Connor’s arm tightly. He looked down at her. The color drained from her face. Connor’s thirium pump clenched and he placed a hand over hers. He looked at Markus. “I’d hate to leave Tina alone.”

“Yeah,” croaked Wren, “Tina, come get a drink with me.”

“Okay,” said Tina slowly, her eyes narrowing.

Connor watched as Wren backed away, some of the color returning to her face. She looked over her shoulder. “Catch me later.” She winked at him before hurrying off with Tina to the open bar.

Warm thirium rushed to Connor’s face. He cleared his throat and followed Markus, North and Josh through the crowd to Senator Atlas Montgomery. The man was tall and olive-skinned. Silver streaked his otherwise dark and thick hair. He flashed a bright smile at Markus and shook his hand.

“Markus, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” said Atlas Montgomery.

“Likewise, Senator,” said Markus.

“Call me Atlas,” said the senator.

“Atlas,” said Markus, “You remember North and Josh?”

“Yes, I do. North, you look lovely, and Josh, you’re looking sharp. All of you are.” Atlas beamed at them.

“And this is Connor,” said Markus, gesturing to Connor, who extended a hand to Atlas.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Connor.

“Likewise,” chirped Atlas. “I’ve heard you’re one of the behind-the-scenes Jericho leaders.”

Connor’s lips twisted. “That’s exaggerating it greatly.”

“Working android-human-related crimes? I can’t imagine the workload,” said Atlas. Connor lifted his eyebrows. The senator did his homework, as Hank would say.

“We’ve created a new division at the police department,” said Connor. “It’s helped alleviate the amount of work.”

“Good,” said Atlas. He flashed his dark gaze to Markus. “Speaking of work, I won’t keep you too long. I know tonight is a night for celebration, but progress never sleeps. I’d like to set up a meeting with you and discuss your ideas on android ambassadors. I also think androids should have a role in Congress, but we’ll see how that goes.”

“Yes, that sounds great,” said Markus. “We can set up a conference call.”

“Between you guys and me, we really need to encourage android-human relations. Things overseas are getting worse, and America can’t afford a civil war,” said Atlas out of the corner of his mouth.

Connor maintained his composure, but he did not miss the slight narrowing of North’s eyes.

“Well, we don’t want that,” said Markus.

“I’m not saying you do,” said Atlas. “Some of my colleagues are not as open-minded, and we can’t afford that bigotry right now.”

“I’d argue that we can’t afford bigotry at all,” said North.

Atlas smiled. “You’re very right. Unfortunately, there will always be bigots. We can only hope that they’ll compromise on their bigotry for the sake of the country as a whole.”

“Yes…” said Markus, furrowing his brow, “the country’s safety is most important.”

“Oh, speaking of safety,” said Atlas, turning toward Markus, “I heard there was an incident at Jericho.”

“Incident?” Markus frowned.

“Back in January,” said Atlas, “Something about a hostage.”

“How did you hear about that?” North demanded.

Atlas smirked and tapped his temple. “I’m a good listener, dear.”

Connor set his jaw before stating, “The DPD handled the situation before it escalated.”

“Of course it did,” said Atlas with a quirk of his lips, “you seem capable of handling most situations.”

“Thank you,” said Connor. The urge to run to Wren and whisk her away from the gala itched his legs, but he remained still.

“Mhm,” said Atlas. He sucked his teeth and shook Markus’s hand again. “I’ll let you guys get back to mingling. Thanks for the chat. We’ll talk about a conference call, or I’ll visit Detroit and we can meet in person.”

“Thank you, Senator. I look forward to it,” said Markus.

Atlas dipped his head and sauntered off. Connor tilted his head before turning away to find Wren. He found her lurking on the edge of the dance floor with Tina. He walked over to them, shaking off the tension in his shoulders.

“Man, I wish they’d play something a little livelier,” said Tina, sipping from her flute of champagne.

“It’s a gala,” said Wren, lips twisted in amusement. “What did you expect?”

“A little more celebration,” said Tina. Wren snorted.

Then, she sighed. “Yeah, I concur. Galas are a little stressful and dancing helps ease that tension. I’m not sure I really fit on this kind of scene.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m here. I just can’t waltz,” said Tina.

Connor looked at Wren. “It’s a good thing you taught me to waltz.” He held out a hand to her. She lifted her eyebrows before one corner of her mouth tugged upward. She handed her champagne glass to Tina and took Connor’s hand. He walked her out to the dance floor, feeling as though his thirium pump were strangling itself in his wiring. He placed a hand on Wren’s waist and held her other one, just as she showed him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. Then, he stepped and Wren stepped with him. Her chest pressed against his, they waltzed to a melody that built to a crescendo. Connor gazed into Wren’s eyes as their bodies moved together.

“You really do look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice strangely hoarse.

Wren’s eyes danced. “Thank you. You look handsome.”

Warmth flooded Connor’s cheeks. Wren tilted her head.

“You blush blue?”

Connor’s face heated even more. A warning flashed in the corner of his eye. “If I’m flustered enough.”

Wren’s lips quirked. “I fluster you?”

Connor widened his eyes. He wanted to deny it, but stopped himself. He parted his lips and managed to smirk. “Maybe a little.”

Wren bit her lip. Her eyes held his. Their movements slowed. Connor leaned toward her, pressing their bodies even closer. He felt her heartbeat beneath his chest. He wanted to feel her mouth on his, to taste her lips. He lowered his head toward her. It was as if magnets pulled them toward each other.

What would everyone think?

Connor’s thirium pump jolted and he jerked away from Wren. Her eyes fluttered open and her brow puckered. Connor swallowed the lump in his throat. He did not want to condemn her to a life of ridicule just by being with him. He was just a plastic skinjob to these people. What would they think if they saw him kiss a human? Sure, they supported android rights now. But once they crossed that line, he doubted people would be so accepting.

The song transitioned and North and Markus cut in. Connor watched as Markus twirled Wren around. He turned his attention to North, who lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Wren looks pretty tonight.”

“Yes, she does,” Connor replied.

“Did I see you leaning in for a kiss just now?” North taunted.

**«3rr0r»**

He lifted his chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

Connor’s processor worked quickly to shift attention from him. His neck burned under North’s stare. “Have you gotten anywhere with Markus?”

North deflated. “No. I’m scared to try because honestly, I don’t think he loves me. I don’t think he ever did.” She lowered her gaze and Connor’s metal heart ached for his friend.

**_▒_ ** **[Retrieving memory]▒**

**_Markus set his paintbrush down and sighed. Connor glanced at the portrait. On one side of the canvas showed Simon, his eyes closed and head bowed. The other side portrayed North, her eyes open and skyward. A wreath of red and white roses bound the two together._**  

Connor withdrew from the static memory. “He cares for you, North.”

“That’s not the same as love.”

“Maybe…” Connor’s gaze drifted to Markus and Wren, who danced loosely, chatting and grinning. “Maybe he’s scared, too.”

“Markus?” North said, her eyes narrowing. “Scared?”

“I assure you, it’s just as dubious to think of you as scared.”

North sighed and lowered her gaze. “Maybe you’re right. I just wish he’d tell me. Or give me some sort of sign.”

“Have you given him any?”

“I’ve tried. We went to the movies, but he invited Josh. As much as I love Josh, I wanted it to be just us. I feel like Markus is scared of being alone with me,” said North, her shoulders sagging.

“I know he feels for you,” Connor replied.

North’s eyes snapped to his. “You do? Has he said anything?”

“You haven’t seen his paintings, have you?”

“No. I haven’t been to Carl’s in a while.”

“Well,” said Connor heavily, “I have. And Markus talks about you. He paints you, too.”

Blue dusted North’s cheeks. “Really?”

“Yes.”

North rolled her shoulders back. “And what about you? Do you… feel for Wren?”

Connor opened and closed his mouth. “Don’t tell her. Please.”

North tilted her head back and let out a groan. “Well, you need to make a move before someone else does.”

The song ended. Connor released North and turned to return to Wren, but Josh cut in to dance with her. Connor clenched his teeth and pursed his lips. He relaxed when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see Chloe.

“Wanna dance with me?” she queried.

Connor’s thirium pump seemed to shrivel in his chest. He nodded. The first several seconds of the song were awkward. Connor cleared his throat. “Chloe, I hope that you didn’t misread things between us.”

Chloe tilted her head. “What?”

“I…” Connor swallowed and cleared his throat. “The night we met in the park, I… I didn’t consider that a date.”

Chloe’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh. Neither did I.”

Connor relaxed. “Oh.”

“I was just thanking you and catching up. I don’t have many android friends,” said Chloe, offering him a small shrug of her narrow shoulders.

Connor puckered his brow. “Oh.” He smoothed his composure. “Well, I’m glad that you asked me to the park. If you still want android friends.”

“Oh, I do,” said Chloe with a wide smile. Her eyes flicked past him. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Of course,” Connor replied.

Chloe bit her lip and smiled sheepishly. “Do you think you could introduce me to your friend? I saw you come in with her.”

Connor’s brow furrowed as he glanced over his shoulder, following Chloe’s gaze. He raised his eyebrows when his eyes landed on Tina leaning against the bar. Connor looked back at Chloe, who regarded him with wide, hopeful eyes. Connor smiled. He dipped his head. He and Chloe left the dance floor three quarters of the way through the song.

“Tina, I’d like to introduce you to Chloe, a friend of mine,” Connor introduced. He turned to Chloe. “This is Tina Chen, a fellow detective.”

“Detective? That’s so fascinating,” said Chloe, taking a seat beside a somewhat bemused Tina. “Is it a really dangerous job?”

“It can be,” said Tina, cutting her gaze to Connor, who promptly ignored them as Wren approached. She gestured to Connor that they move away from Tina and Chloe a little bit.

“I think Markus is going to give his speech soon,” Wren muttered. “North said we can leave after that.”

“Oh,” said Connor, his thirium pump sinking. “You don’t want to stay and dance a bit?”

Wren turned toward him, her mouth slanting with a smirk. “Actually, we want to go —”

“Connor, Wren,” said a smooth voice. Connor’s attention jerked to Elijah Kamski, who wore a dark red tux. It seemed fitting, though it reminded Connor of the red pool where Chloe kneeled before him as he pressed a gun to her forehead. He suppressed a shiver and glanced over at a very much alive Chloe, chatting with Tina.

“Mr. Kamski,” said Wren.

Connor redirected his attention to Kamski and Wren. Kamski’s bright blue eyes traveled down Wren’s form. The urge to shield Wren from Kamski’s eyes nearly overwhelmed Connor, but he restrained himself. Instead, he placed his hands in his pockets.

“You look ravishing, my dear,” said Kamski, his cold eyes flicking to Wren’s. He held out an arm. “Come. Dance with me.”

Wren’s eyes flashed to Connor, who clenched his jaw. Wren accepted Kamski’s offer and swept off for the dance floor. Connor gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the ache stabbing through his circuits with every beat of his thirium pump.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a small disclaimer --I am not, in any way, shape or form, trying to minimize the struggles of the Civil Rights Movement and the like. I think the game wanted us to draw the parallels to oppression, and it creates an interesting dynamic for humanity, because it becomes a matter of us vs. them rather than us vs. us. IDK if that makes sense. It's 2 am right now. I'm just trying to make sure you guys know that when I allude to certain things, I'm not trying to minimize or discredit these events. Thank you guys so much for your patience in my writing this chapter. I know it took longer than usual, and I'm really sorry about that. I had the week from hell (I had a paper due, as well as two 750 word summaries on a short story and a novel). By the time I finished my school work, I was really burnt out and didn't have the energy to write. Sorry, I'm not trying to ramble or anything. It's just that point of the semester where all of my classes are getting super intense (hello, 15-20 page research paper and public conference on middle English!!!) Anyway, I really appreciate your patience and support. I haven't forgotten or abandoned this story! Christmas break is almost here, which means I'll have more time to write! I just need to get through the next few weeks.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**_Chapter Twenty-Four_ **

Kamski’s hand on Wren’s waist felt ghostly compared to Connor’s. He barely touched her, whereas Connor seemed solid. Wren held Kamski with a light touch as they waltzed on the dance floor.

“You and the RK800 unit seem close,” said Kamski, his crystal gaze flicking to where Connor stood on the edge of the dance floor.

“ _Connor’s_ a good friend,” Wren replied coolly.

Kamski’s lips quirked. “I’m sure he is.”

Wren tilted her head. “Why did you really want to dance with me?”

“Can I not just dance with a beautiful woman?”

Wren smirked coldly. “There’s always a purpose in the things you do. You like to play games.”

Kamski snorted. “Games are no fun when your opponent refuses to play.”

“I’ve played one too many games in my life,” Wren replied.

“And what are you going to do when there are no games left to play? Settle down? Live on a farm?”

Wren narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“Well, you’re still in this game,” said Kamski.

“And so are you, apparently.”

Kamski’s smirk faltered. “The ending of this particular game benefits a lot of people. I’m betting on you.”

Wren frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m here to warn you,” said Kamski, dazzling her with a smile. “Pretend to be happy.”

Wren’s fake smile spread across her cheeks with ease. “Warn me?”

Kamski twirled Wren around. When she spun back into him, he placed his hand back on her waist and leaned close to her ear. “Beware of titans who pretend to be saviors.” He kissed her cheek and then swept off the dance floor.

Wren stood in the middle of dancing people for a second before walking over to Connor, her brow puckering. Connor tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

Wren faced the stage as Markus and Kamski stepped onto it. A woman spoke into a microphone, introducing Markus. Wren heard the words through a tunnel as she stared at Kamski, who seemed to look at her from the stage with a glittering smile.

“I’ll… I’ll tell you later,” Wren clapped with everyone else, though her applause’s speed matched her dazed mind.

Markus stood at the microphone as applause died. “Thank you for that introduction, and thank you all for coming. It gives me hope to see so many people supportive of the android cause. We’ve come a long way in the past year, and we’ve faced many challenges. Some of these obstacles seemed impossible, but we prevailed. I’m proud of all of our hard work and dedication. But our progress is not finished. We still have a long way to go, but I am confident in the future of android-human relations. I look forward to this year’s progress with our allies.”

Kamski stepped forward as the audience applauded for Markus. “I think it’s safe to say that all of us here are looking forward to building android-human relations. CyberLife has had no small part in all this, and I believe it is the root of some distrust among humans and androids. So, as our first step in bettering the android-human relationship, I am announcing my return to CyberLife as its CEO.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, prompting a smile from Kamski.

“As CEO, I plan to repurpose CyberLife it as an android care facility. Anything androids need will be produced. Markus and I have been working closely on these plans, and I am excited to start this new phase of the Android Liberation Movement.”

Applause met the end of Kamski’s speech. The gala resumed, though many people left. Markus, North and Josh said their goodbyes to some important politicians and citizens before joining Wren, Connor, Tina and Chloe.

“Well, I think I’ve officially decided I don’t like galas,” said Josh, tugging at his bowtie. “Not that I’m not grateful for any of this.”

North rolled her shoulders. “I’m right there with you. I was hoping for some real dancing.”

Wren’s lips quirked. “Waltzing is real dancing.”

“You know what I mean.” North glanced at Chloe. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Oh,” perked up Chloe, “I’m Chloe.”

Markus, Josh and North introduced themselves. North looked at Wren in askance, but Wren mouthed, _I’ll fill you in later._ North nodded. Tina folded her arms as they left the gala and stepped into the frigid air. Connor offered Wren her shawl, which she wrapped around herself. Her cyber arms did not feel the cold, per se, but the parts of her that did feel it froze.  

“So, North, Wren and I were thinking that we could go dancing. To celebrate,” Tina said.

North grinned. “You guys have never been dancing.”

“It’s essential to the whole _feeling alive_ experience,” said Tina.

Markus folded his arms. “Aren’t we a little overdressed?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t matter!” exclaimed Tina.

“Come on, guys. It’ll be fun, I promise.” North wiggled her eyebrows. A smile spread across her face as Markus sighed.

“Okay, fine. We’ll go dancing,” he agreed.

“Excellent! I know just the place,” said Tina.

They (Chloe included) clambered into the limo and rode to Enigma, where they hopped out. The bass from the music reverberated through Wren’s chest. She grinned at the colored purple and blue lights.

“I’m alive!” Tina cried. “Come on!” She grabbed Chloe’s hand and the two scurried toward the dance floor.

Josh shrugged. “What the hell.” He walked over to the dance floor, looking a little awkward, but Tina and Chloe welcomed him to dance beside them.

North tugged Markus along by his hand, grinning. Wren’s face warmed at the thought of dancing with Connor the way North and Markus danced. Tina waved Wren over.

“Come on!”

Wren folded her arms. Connor stood beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. He shifted his weight to one foot and pivoted to peer at her, his hands swinging to his sides.

“It would be a shame to waste those dance lessons you gave me.”

Wren pressed her lips together. She glanced at him. “Are you sure?”

Connor dipped his head. “It looks… fun.”

Wren bit back a bark of laughter. She shrugged and led Connor to their friends on the dance floor. They started out dancing as a group, standing in a small circle. Then Tina leaned forward, her teeth gleaming blue in the artificial light.

“You guys say you can dance, but I don’t see it!”

North and Wren glanced at each other. Wren gestured for North to go first. North swiveled her hips as she stepped forward. She dropped to a wide squat and bounced with the beat. She moved like a snake and twirled. Wren swore she heard Markus mutter, “RA9.”

Wren decided to keep hers fun and flirty. She swung her hips and ran her hands down her thighs. She rolled her shoulders and twirled around. If she weren’t in a figure-hugging gown, she’d do much more. North joined her after a moment. The two of them snaked toward each other. Tina cheered while North and Wren stood back to back and shimmied. Josh snickered and shuffled forward.

“You guys are gonna have to do a _real_ dance off one day,” he said.

“Deal!” North sang, dancing away from Wren to wrap her arms around Markus’s neck. Tina and Chloe shuffled off to grab a drink for Tina. Even Josh found a dance partner, leaving Wren alone with Connor.

Wren huffed. The song’s bass thrummed in her veins, and the dancer in her took the lead. She swiveled her hips and raised her arms above her head. Connor placed his hands on Wren’s hips as she shook them. She twirled so that her back pressed against Connor’s chest. She rocked her body against his. She quickly spun back to face him, her face reddening. She thanked the heavens for the weird lighting of the club, because Connor could not see her blush. He shook his hips, though not as smoothly as she did. His lips quirked with a small smile. 

Maybe it was the lights, or the bass, or the lyrics of the song, or the many bodies, or the simple fact that Wren’s body was pressed so close to Connor’s that she could feel the coolness of his skin through his shirt, but Wren’s heart jumped to her throat. Her breath shortened and heat trickled up her spine like an opening flower. She swallowed the lump in her throat as an ache panged through her chest. Wren lowered her eyes.

“I need some air,” she said hoarsely. She pushed away from Connor and through the crowd to an outdoor area, where no one sat because of the cold. Wren walked across the balcony to the railing, overlooking the city as she gasped for breath. Her chest _hurt_. She clutched at it, as if that would somehow alleviate the pain. Tears sprang to her eyes.

She was tired of this. Tired of the hurting, tired of the fucking _pining_. She gripped the railing and shook with a light sob. She wanted to rip the ache from her heart. She wanted to scream, to rip out her heart and throw it into the Detroit gutters. She wanted… She wanted Connor to love her.

Wren coughed out a small sob, nearly missing the door to the club opening. The click of Connor’s shoes sounded behind her.

“You shouldn’t be out here without a jacket. Your body can’t handle this temperature as well as mine can.”  

Wren wiped away her tears and sniffled. “I know. I just… needed some air.” She refused to look back at him.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was soft. It was always soft, and gentle and kind…

“Nothing. Just… a lot of people.”

“I didn’t realize you were so uncomfortable in crowds.”

“Y-yeah,” Wren croaked, tilting her head back, letting cold air into her mouth. “They can be a bit…” The lie died on her lips. She was sick of _lying_ , too. Her shoulders sagged and she bowed her head. “Crowds don’t bother me.”

“Oh,” murmured Connor, “then why did you say it was the crowd?”

Wren turned to face him at last. She nearly flinched when she realized just how close they were to one another. He peered at her with his brow creased softly and his lips parted. His LED flickered, betraying his racing thoughts. Wren lowered her gaze, unsure of what to say. Her heart throttled her ribs. Her eyes caught a glint of silver at Connor’s wrists. Her heart softened to see those ridiculous dinosaur cufflinks she got him. Wren’s eyes flicked back to Connor’s as he waited for her to give him an answer.

She was sick and tired of _not knowing_.

Her body moved before the thought crossed her mind. She closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against Connor’s, her eyes sliding shut.

But Connor jerked back, forcing Wren’s eyes open. He gaped at her, his LED red. Wren opened her mouth, a chill prickling down her spine. “I…” She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” Wren pushed past Connor and hurried inside the club. She weaved her way through the crowd. She thought she heard Connor call after her, but she did not look back.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren took a cab home. Once inside, she fed Tina’s cat and hurried upstairs to one of the bathrooms. She slipped out of her dress and took off her jewelry. While she ran a hot bath, she scrubbed her face of makeup. She laid out comfy clothes and then sank into the hot water. She pulled her knees to her chest.

She thought she hated the ache of pining, but this was much worse. A sharp lump built in the back of her throat. Her heart hurt more than she thought possible. It hurt to breathe, because the shards of her heart seemed to stab her lungs. Tears burned her eyes until they ached. She cried in the bathtub. She replayed the moment of Connor jerking away over and over again.

_I’m a fucking idiot._

How could she ever think that Connor loved her? He was new to emotions. How could he have room for her? It was incredibly selfish of her to think he might love her.

“Wren?” called Tina.

Wren lifted her head from her knees, her face wet with sweat and tears. The water was still hot.

“Everything okay?” called North.

Wren rinsed her face off and got out of the tub. She let out the water and dried off quickly. She struggled to pull on her clothes, which clung to her still-damp skin. She hurried downstairs, praying that it was just Tina and North. Her shoulder released some of their tension upon seeing that Tina and North stood alone in the living room. Wren gazed at her friends.

“What’s wrong?” Tina queried.

The tears welled in Wren’s eyes anew. “I kissed Connor.”

Tina and North exchanged a glance. North looked at Wren. “Then why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?”

Wren drew in a shuddering breath. “We were wrong about him. He doesn’t feel the same way at all.” The tears spilled over and Wren bowed her head, hoping her hair might hide her crying.

“Oh, honey,” said Tina, leading Wren over to the couch and sitting her down.

“That’s… That’s not right,” said North slowly, sitting beside Wren.

Wren scowled. She looked at North. “I’m pretty fucking sure I know.”

North blinked, her brow puckering. “Did he… Did he say he didn’t love you?”

Wren buried her face in her hands. “He jerked away when I kissed him. That’s a pretty big message right there.”

“Maybe… Maybe he was just surprised,” said North.

“North…” Tina rubbed her forehead.  

“That’s not what it felt like,” Wren scoffed.

“Wren, he seemed really upset when you left,” said North gently.

“Yeah, because I destroyed our friendship!” Wren sighed. “See, this is why I didn’t want to make the first move. I didn’t want to pressure him and now… I’ve ruined things. God, I’m such an idiot. I got selfish… I was just tired of fucking pining after him and now… Now, I’ve ruined everything.”

“I don’t think you’ve ruined anything,” North replied.

Wren’s eyes snapped to North’s. “How would you know?”

North opened and closed her mouth. Then she insisted, “I just know, okay?”

Tina bit her lip. She left the room for a few minutes and returned with a cup of tea. Wren accepted it, but didn’t drink from it. Tina sat in the armchair across from Wren.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Tina muttered. “I mean, I’m usually pretty good at picking up on these kinds of signs. North, did you see the way Connor looked at Wren all night?”

“Yes!” North exclaimed. “He couldn’t take his stupid eyes off you.”

Wren shook her head. “Please, stop. All of our speculation got my hopes up last time.”

Tina opened her mouth to reply but a knock on the front door interrupted her. She puckered her brow and answered the door. After a few seconds, she hurried back, looking panicked. “It’s Connor,” she announced, wringing her hands.

“What?” Wren hissed. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Nausea roiled in her belly.

North handed Wren a tissue, who wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She hugged herself as she walked to the door, wishing she hadn’t changed out of her gown. She trembled as she approached the foyer, where Connor stood in the doorway of the townhouse. Wren stepped outside and shut the door.

“Aren’t you cold?” Connor queried. His voice sounded hoarse.

“I can handle it,” Wren muttered, looking at the patio floor.

“Have you… Have you been crying?”

Wren closed her eyes as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She held them back and met Connor’s gentle gaze. “Connor, look… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to offend you or embarrass you or—”

“You didn’t do either of those things,” said Connor.

Wren clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. She frowned. “Oh. Then… Why are you here?”

“To apologize,” said Connor.

“For what?”

Connor opened and closed his mouth. His LED cycled between red and yellow and back again. “For reacting the way I did.”

Wren’s heart shriveled. “It’s not your fault. I… I was selfish and I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that. I’m sorry.”

“You misunderstand me,” said Connor. He huffed and shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around Wren’s shaking shoulders.

Wren flinched. “Don’t do things like that.”

“Things like what?” Connor tilted his head.

“Things that make me think that you… Never mind. What did you want to tell me?” Wren looked up at him. She wanted him to just rip off the band-aid. She’d much rather it be quick and harsh rather than this slow pain hidden behind warmth and kindness.

“I…” Connor trailed off and lowered his gaze. His LED gleamed red. “Do you regret kissing me?”

Wren widened her eyes. “W-what?”

Connor met her gaze. “You keep saying that you shouldn’t have done that.”

Wren looked at the ground. “It was an invasion of your privacy.”

“I… I came here to tell you… that I…. that I should have kissed you first.”

Wren’s head snapped up as her eyes leveled with Connor’s. “What?”

Connor parted his lips. His eyes remained wide. “I… I should’ve kissed you first.”

“Why?” Wren croaked.

Connor gazed at her, his LED still red. “Because I…” He trailed off. Wren trembled, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Connor strode toward her and kissed her. Wren melted into the kiss immediately. Her eyes fluttered shut. Connor’s hands cupped the back of her neck. His lips were softer than a human’s, almost silky.

Wren pushed him away, her eyes flashing open. “I don’t want you to do this because you’re confused—”

“I’m not confused,” Connor assured her breathily. His eyes glistened as they searched hers. “I love you. I’ve known I loved you ever since you nearly died to save me. I was just too scared to say anything.”

Wren sucked in a sharp breath. Her heart seemed suspended. Her lips twitched. “You know why I took that bullet for you?” She held his gaze and he waited for her to continue, his lips parted as he held her body close to his. “Because _I love you_ , too.”

The corners of Connor’s mouth twitched. His eyes slid shut and he pressed his lips to Wren’s again, though their kiss was bit hungrier this time. Their lips slid against one another and Wren cradled the back of Connor’s head. Her body curved into his as one of his hands cupped the back of her neck and the other gripped the small of her back. Wren tried to keep her teeth from chattering, not wanting the moment to end. But Connor, ever the logician, pulled away. Wren panted. Connor rested his forehead against Wren’s.

“You should go inside,” he murmured. “Your body temperature is dropping.”

Wren bit her lip. “Do you want to come in, too?”

“I think I should go back. Hank is worried about me.”

“Okay,” Wren withdrew. She stopped before the front door and turned, her brow puckering. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

Connor’s lips twitched. “I think it’s what Hank would call a ‘good weird.’”

Wren smiled. Connor stepped toward her, his hands in his pockets. He pecked her cheek. Wren tried not to smile too much, but after so much, pain her happiness overpowered her ability to hide her emotions. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Connor nodded and walked away. Wren watched him go before stepped inside, still beaming. She padded into the living room, a dazed look on her face. North and Tina looked at her expectantly. Wren bit her lip and squealed. North and Tina’s faces exploded into smiles.

North’s smile faltered slightly as she rolled her eyes and muttered, “Fucking _finally_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE!!! I am finally finished with this extra-ass semester (and I got an A on my 23-page research paper, so my anxiety levels have plummeted for once). I wanted to work on this so badly, but I just had to focus on the three papers and my two final exams, as much as I love this story and writing for it. I thank you all for your patience. 
> 
> Songs for this chapter... 
> 
> "I'm Sending You Away" by M83   
> (for the sexy songs, Chantaje by Shakira, Or Nah by SoMo)


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

    ** _Chapter Twenty-Five_**

Connor entered Hank’s house, a dazed smile toying with his lips. He kissed Wren. He told her he loved her! And she felt the same way…

“Well?” Hank said, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Connor blinked. Hank gestured to the front door. “You gonna close the door? You’re lettin’ cold air in.”

“Oh. Sorry,” said Connor, shutting the door. He turned, still feeling rather dazed.

“So,” said Hank, folding his arms, “you gonna tell me what happened? I can’t tell because you look distracted.”

“I told her,” Connor assured Hank. Connor’s mouth quirked. “And…” He grinned.

Hank recoiled. “Use your fuckin’ words. You’re freaking me out with that grin.”

“She feels the same.”

“Yeah, I knew that a million fuckin’ years ago. Is she your girlfriend or what?” Hank leaned against the doorframe.

Connor’s brow twitched. “Yeah, she is. She is.” He tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “You mean you knew?”

“Everybody knew, kid. Wait, you said she confessed first, right?” Hank pulled out his phone to text someone.

Connor’s frown deepened. “Yes, but, Hank, what do you mean—?”

“Gavin owes me fifty bucks,” said Hank, sending the text. “And I owe Chris twenty. Damn.”

“You… You _bet_ on this? What are you talking about?” Connor stared at Hank inquisitively.

Hank rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Connor, the two of you would stare at each other like glassy-eyed mouth-breathers. It wasn’t hard to figure out something was going on between the two of ya. And Wren told _me_ a while ago.” 

Connor blinked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Same reason I didn’t tell Wren how you felt,” said Hank, shrugging. “She asked me not to and I ain’t a snitch, kid. That was for the two of you to figure out. Would you have wanted me to tell her how you felt?”

“Well… No,” said Connor, lowering his gaze.

“There, see? It all worked out. So, got any plans for a date?” Hank clapped his hands together, his eyes gleaming.

“A date?”

Hank rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Fuck. I forget how little you know about some things.”

“I know what it is, Hank,” said Connor, “I just… hadn’t thought about it.”

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, look. We’ll talk about this in the morning. It’s late. I just wanted to make sure everything worked out. Can’t _believe_ you came here first instead of going after her directly.”

Connor tensed. “She ran off, Hank. She said it was a mistake and ran off. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Hank smirked. “Okay, well, next time a girl professes her love to ya and runs off and you love her back, you fuckin’ go after her, okay?”

Connor nodded. “Got it.”

Hank pushed off the doorframe and shuffled toward Connor. He patted Connor’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you, kid.”

Connor smiled. “Thank you.”

Hank pulled Connor into a hug, which Connor returned with a soft smile. Hank patted Connor’s back before letting go and shuffling off to bed. Connor entered his own room and dressed out of his tux and into some leisure clothes. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He knew he should enter standby mode, especially since Dr. Willis told him that emotions could fry his systems and Connor certainly felt frazzled. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He touched his lips. The best part of being an android, he decided, was that he could relive any memory exactly as it happened.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor glanced at Wren as they worked through paperwork. It was a slow day, but Hank warned them not to get too comfortable, as they would certainly receive an overwhelming amount of cases over the holiday season.

“If you look over at her again, I’m gonna smack the back of your head so hard your eyes fall out,” Hank muttered.

Connor looked away from Wren quickly, his face warming. “Sorry, Hank.”

“If the two of you are dating now, just ask her out. You got the hard part out of the way.”

“I-I don’t know how,” Connor murmured.

Chris leaned forward. “Dinner and a movie is always a classic move.”

“Connor doesn’t eat,” said Hank. “It might be a bit awkward for Wren if Connor’s just sittin’ there watching her eat.”

“Touché,” said Chris. He rubbed his chin. His eyes widened. “Oh, maybe you could take her ice skating. That’s hella romantic.”

“Hey, losers,” said Tina, scooting her chair closer, “we can hear you guys whispering over here.”

Connor’s ears burned and he met Wren’s gaze. She pressed her lips into barely-contained smile before returning her attention to the terminal at her desk. Connor looked at his, the warmth spreading from his ears to his neck and across his nose.

“What’s up, assholes?” said Gavin, stepping into the Human-Android Division bullpen.

“You’re late,” said Tina.

“Because I was getting everyone coffee,” said Gavin, showing off the tray of coffee cups in his right hand.

“You can be late every day if you do this,” Tina amended as Gavin handed her a cup. He passed coffee around to everyone but Connor. Wren sipped from hers.

“I guess you’re not as big of an asshole as we thought,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re welcome and fuck you too,” said Gavin, waving her off as he took his seat. He looked at Connor. “Fowler wants to see you in his office. That android leader is here, too.”

Connor lifted his eyebrows. “Markus?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know his name.”

Connor glanced over at Wren, whose brow puckered. Connor pushed his chair out and stood from his desk. He walked to the elevator and pressed the button to summon it. He glanced over his shoulder at Wren, who offered him a quirk of her lips. Connor returned it before stepping on the elevator and riding it down to the main level of the precinct. He furrowed his brow and smoothed his tie as he walked toward the glass office, where Fowler sat at his desk and Markus sat across from him. Connor entered the office and dipped his head to Markus.

“Have a seat, Connor,” said Fowler, gesturing to the empty chair. Connor sat down and smoothed his tie. He rested his hands on his knees.

“Is everything alright, Captain?”

“No need to look so nervous,” said Fowler. “Markus here thinks it’s a good idea to introduce the Human-Android Division to the public, and he wants you to be the face for it.”

Connor blinked and turned toward Markus, who smiled.

“It’s important for the people to see the progress we’ve made in the Android Liberation Movement. They need to see that androids are being implemented into work environments and can coexist with humans. I think the Human-Android Division is a perfect place to start, and I think you should speak about it this Friday.” Markus eyed Connor with his two-toned eyes. The synthetic skin crinkled around Markus’s eyes as he smiled without moving his lips.

Connor looked between Fowler and Markus. “Me?”

“You’re the only android on the team,” said Fowler, “and you’ve been here since before the Android Liberation Movement began.”

Connor looked back at Markus. “But I’m not… I don’t speak publicly.”

“That’s okay,” said Markus, “just come by Jericho each night this week and we’ll help you prepare your speech. It doesn’t have to be long. Unless you don’t want to do this.”

Connor swallowed. The idea of speaking publicly skittered his metal heart, but he wanted to help his people. He wanted to advocate for their rights, to make up for the harm he caused as CyberLife’s newest prototype. So, he nodded. “I… I’ll do it.”

Markus grinned and stood. “Great. I’ll see you tonight and we can go over the details.”

“Well, if that’s all, gentlemen… I’ve got work to do,” said Fowler.

Connor nodded and stood. He led Markus toward the front of the precinct. Markus stopped before the exit. “I heard about you and Wren.”

Connor snapped out of his daze and managed a smile. “We are officially dating.”

Markus smiled. “That’s great. I’m happy for you. Listen, keep your relationship on the down-low for now, okay?”

Connor creased his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean don’t tell any officials yet. Don’t sign any anti-fraternization policies here or anything like that,” said Markus, glancing toward Fowler’s office.

Connor’s frown deepened. “Why not?”

“There are still some… obstacles in human and android relationships. Some are supportive, but many are not and even more are ambivalent towards it. I don’t want you and Wren to suffer any consequences, okay?” Markus placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

Connor nodded. “Got it. Thank you for the warning.”

“We’re making progress, but it’s slow progress. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” said Connor. Markus left the precinct, and Connor watched a few people come and go from the building before heading back upstairs for his paperwork.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren rode home with Connor and Hank after work for dinner. While Wren stirred in half and half into a saucepan, Hank chopped up onions. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. Connor tilted his head.

“Hank, are you alright?” Connor queried.

“Yeah, it’s these damn onions.”

“I’ve heard chewing gum helps,” said Wren.

“Well, that’s very fuckin’ helpful after the fact,” said Hank, scraping the diced onions off the cutting board and into the saucepan. Wren grinned cheekily. Hank checked on the boiling pot of water. “So, Connor. What did Fowler and Markus want?”

Connor sucked in a breath to cool his systems before telling Hank and Wren what happened in Fowler’s office earlier that day. “I texted Markus earlier to tell him that I would come over after dinner.”

“They want you to be the face of the Human-Android Division, huh?” said Hank, dumping pasta into the boiling water. He turned from the pot and folded his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“I think it’s great,” said Wren, still stirring the sauce.

“Yeah, it is,” agreed Hank. “Too bad we can’t tell anyone you’re a cyborg, though. You’re, like, the epitome that human and androids can coexist.”

“More like the posterchild for fancy prosthetics,” said Wren, shaking her head. She looked over her shoulder at Connor. “You don’t seem too excited about it.”

Connor lowered his gaze. “I’ve never had to do something like this. I’m not sure I’m the right choice.”

Wren frowned. “Why not?”

“I’ve been in the background. I didn’t deviate until the end of the movement.”

“Yeah, but you were pretty damn essential,” said Hank. “If you hadn’t shown up with all those CyberLife androids, Markus and the others would’ve been executed.”

Connor avoided his family’s gaze. “The thought of speaking in front of people… I can’t quite describe the feeling. Almost as if I’m… falling.” He looked up. “Does that make sense?”

Wren nodded. “You’re nervous. That’s natural.”

Connor relaxed. He had experienced nervousness before, but not quite like this. Even commonly identifiable emotions seemed to have subcategories and layers to them. He looked at Wren and Hank. How did they handle it so easily?

Hank strained the pasta before adding it to the pot. Wren dumped the sauce in with the pasta and mixed it together. She and Hank fixed their bowls and joined Connor at the table. Connor avoided watching the two of them eat as best he could.

“Wren, have you heard from your family lately?” Hank asked.

Connor’s eyes flicked to Wren’s face. She avoided looking at them, focusing on twirling pasta around her fork. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to my brother some.”

“And?”

“He wants me to come visit for Thanksgiving.”

“And you don’t want to?” Hank scooped pasta into his mouth and eyed Wren.

“I told him I’m not ready to meet any extended family. He promised I wouldn’t have to. He just said that Mom wants to see me and he wants me to meet his daughter, Izzy.” Wren glanced up, her eyes twinkling. “He named her for me, you know.”

“So why not see them?” Hank queried.

“I don’t know,” sighed Wren, “I haven’t been around them by myself in a long time…”

“Sounds like you’re just makin’ excuses.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “Maybe I am.”

“Just give it some more thought, kid.”

“I will.”

Connor lowered his gaze and watched Sumo circle the corner of the room before settling into a pile of fur and paws. He helped Hank and Wren clean the kitchen before taking Hank’s car to drop Wren off at home and head to Jericho. He glanced toward Wren, who gazed out the window as they drove.

“Is there another reason you don’t want to go?”

Wren looked at him. “I haven’t driven by myself since…” She lifted her hands. “Well, you know.”

Connor pressed his lips together as he detected a slight rise in Wren’s stress levels. “Oh.” He restrained himself from suggesting that he drive her there. This was her family, not his. He did not want to intrude.

“Everything okay? You seem kind of down,” said Wren.

Connor trained his eyes on the road. “Markus told me that we should keep our relationship hidden from officials for a while.”

“I… I was actually thinking along the same lines,” said Wren quietly. Connor looked at her. She met his gaze before he returned his attention to the road. “Not because I’m ashamed of you or anything. I just… I’ve seen how some people treat humans and androids in a relationship. Remember that date I went on with that guy?”

“Yes.” Connor’s hands tightened around the wheel.

“He was such a jerk about the one couple we saw. I’d hate for someone to say something to you about us. Or worse,” said Wren.

Connor softened his grip and his lips twitched. His eyes flicked toward Wren as he tried to hide a smile. “I was worried about the same happening to you.”

Wren rubbed her palms against her thighs and let out a short breath. “But we could tell our friends and family.”

Connor pressed his lips together for a moment. “Most of them already know.”

“I… I meant mine,” Wren muttered.

Connor looked at her before parking Hank’s car in the driveway of Wren and Tina’s townhouse. “You mean…” Connor swallowed. He turned to look at her. “You want me to come with you to your family’s Thanksgiving? Are you sure?”

Wren avoided his gaze. “Well, I don’t want to go by myself, and… I’d like you to be there with me. If you want.”

Connor searched Wren’s face for a few seconds. She held his gaze and dragged her teeth across her lip. Connor’s thirium pump stuttered. He nodded. “I-I’d like that.”

Wren’s face exploded with a grin. “Really?”

Connor returned her beam. “Yes.”

Wren threw her arms around Connor’s neck. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek and pulled away, but Connor pulled her closer. He nestled his face in the crook of her neck for a moment. He held her for several seconds before Wren pulled away.

“You’ll be late for your meeting with Markus.”

Connor nodded. He tugged at the knot of his tie. “Right.”

Wren tilted her head. “Still not looking forward to Friday?”

“I’m dreading it,” said Connor. He lifted his eyebrows. “But… You could help make it better.”

“How?”

“By going on a date with me,” said Connor, staring straight ahead. When Wren failed to respond after a few seconds, Connor looked at her. She wore a lopsided grin.

“You smooth motherfucker,” she teased. “Of course I’ll go on a date with you.”

Connor breathed a smile. “We can go after the speech. Dress warmly.”

“Yes sir,” said Wren with a salute. She kissed Connor’s cheek before getting out of the car. Connor watched her enter her house before smiling to himself.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Friday arrived too soon. Connor dressed in his usual work attire, as Hank assured him that a three-piece suit was not necessary. Connor stood beside Fowler in front of the police station. A group of reporters formed a semi-circle around them, holding out microphones as Markus introduced Captain Fowler.

Fowler stepped forward. “Good afternoon.” he greeted. Connor glanced behind him, where the rest of his team stood. Wren winked at him and Connor faced the front again. Wren’s presence soothed him a little bit, though he still could not shake the electric currents rippling through his circuits.  

“I am pleased to announce that the Detroit Police Department has formed a new division of investigators. Our homicide group was overloaded with work, and with the rise of the Android Liberation Movement, we have found a new division. I am pleased to introduce to you, the Human-Android Division. I assure you that the DPD is working with androids to facilitate amicability and to reduce the amount of android and human related crimes to make these streets safer for everyone. I’d like to introduce one of the members of this new division, an RK800, the very first android detective: Detective Connor. Connor, if you will.” Fowler stepped aside. Connor’s mouth dried.

**◄WARNING: Malfunction in Salivary Unit Detected►**

Connor swallowed to relieve the dryness. He stepped up to the pulpit. He cleared his throat. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with this new division, as it is a team of incredibly talented detectives. I’m honored to be included in this group, as it is important to incorporate androids into human work spaces. To be considered an equal is a great show of progress, and I am humbled to take part in it. Thank you.” He dipped his head and joined his team behind the pulpit, where Markus took his place to close the short conference. Wren nudged Connor with her elbow.

“You did great,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” Connor breathed. The reporters dispersed once Markus left after shaking hands with Connor. Wren hid from the cameras as much as possible. Once it seemed safe, Wren embraced Connor.

“I’m proud so proud of you!” She grinned up at him.

“Get a fucking room,” gagged Gavin.

“Oh, lay off,” said Chris, shoving Gavin’s arm, “they only spent a million years pining after each other.”

“Fuck, you two are dumb,” muttered Tina, rolling her eyes.

“You’re just now realizing this?” Hank challenged.

Wren withdrew from Connor and they joined the others.

“You were great,” said Tina.

“Eh, a little cheesy for my taste, but whatever,” said Chris. He winked at Connor.

“Cheesy? More like bitchy,” said Gavin. “You sounded like a damn wiener up there.”

“Thanks, Gavin,” said Connor, furrowing his brow.

“Oh, you got sarcasm now, huh? Downloaded a sense of humor?” Gavin folded his arms.

“No, I was already built with the perfect personality,” Connor flashed back.

Wren snorted. “It’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You two are in love, whatever,” Gavin rolled his eyes.

“Have you guys signed the love document yet?” Chris asked.

“We still have anti-fraternization policies?” Tina demanded.

“Yeah, they’re not strict though,” said Gavin.

“They’ve never enforced that,” muttered Hank.

“We’re keeping it on the down-low,” said Wren. “Just because of the whole android-human thing.”

“Smart,” said Tina.

“Yeah, you don’t want someone calling you a robo-fucker,” said Gavin.

Connor scowled at him and resisted the urge to wrap his arm around Wren’s waist. Hank folded his arms.

“I’d be worried about legal issues,” he muttered.

“Legal issues?” Connor queried.

“Yeah, people are idiots. Mixed race marriages were illegal for a while. Gay marriage was illegal. I would be prepared for human and android relationships to be a legal issue in the near future,” said Hank. He pursed his lips. “It’s a load of bullshit, but people don’t like what they don’t understand.”

“But we’ll fight for you,” said Tina, meeting Connor’s gaze. “If and when it comes to that.”

“Thank you,” Connor murmured.

“We should get back to work before Fowler comes to make sure we didn’t run off,” said Chris.

“What, work for the hour we have left today?” Hank scoffed.

“Yes, Hank,” snorted Chris as the group headed back inside.

“I hate being a responsible adult,” muttered Hank.

Connor slowed his pace when he realized Wren remained still. He turned to look back at her while the others entered the precinct.

“Is everything alright?” he queried, taking a few steps toward her.

She crossed her arms and looked toward the street. “Yeah, I… I guess I’m just being paranoid.”

Connor furrowed his brow as he neared her. “About what?”

Wren looked at him. The wind rustled her hair. “Something Kamski told me about Prometheus…”

Connor stiffened. “What did he say?”

“He just told me to beware of Titans who pretend to be saviors,” said Wren.

“And why is that bothering you?”

Wren hugged herself as another burst of cold wind blew some hair into her face. Her brow creased. “I don’t know… Prometheus was a savior to humanity. He brought them fire, but he was also a trickster. The only other person who cross references with the Titans is Atlas.”

“Atlas Montgomery?” Connor shifted his weight to his other leg and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You think he’s involved?”

“I’m not sure,” said Wren. “It’s weird that I saved his daughter years ago and now he’s back here.”

“He’s worked with Markus some,” said Connor. “It could just be a coincidence.”

Wren pursed her lips. “I don’t know.”

Connor frowned. “When’s the last time you slept?”

Wren rubbed her brow. “A few hours here and there.”

Connor’s frown deepened the contours of his face. “Are you having nightmares again?”

“Some,” Wren sighed. She shivered. Connor pressed his lips together. Wren huffed and looked toward the street again. “It doesn’t make sense for Prometheus to send me after Markus. Assassinating him would cause an uprising, and humanity can’t survive a war with androids, especially with the tension with Russia.”

“You’ve mentioned this before,” said Connor slowly. He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. “Talk to me, Wren.”

Wren avoided his gaze. “It doesn’t make sense that they haven’t sent anyone after me.”

Connor looked around to ensure their conversation remained private. Satisfied, he returned his attention to Wren. “What do you mean?”

Wren looked at him. “If they really wanted Markus dead, and they think I’m dead, then they would’ve sent another agent in my place. They would’ve sent someone to finish the job and to make sure that I was really dead. That never happened.”

“Maybe they thought it was too risky,” suggested Connor.

Wren shook her head. “They learn from their mistakes. They would’ve found a way. I could’ve absolutely assassinated Markus, but I was fighting my programming. I chose to make a scene so that I could be stopped. So why didn’t they send someone after me?”

Connor glanced at her. “I… I’m not sure.”

Wren met his gaze. “I think they did send someone after me and saw that I was still alive. I’ve been thinking a lot about my last assignment from them, and I realized something. I received this mission differently than my others. Usually, they just downloaded the objective to my processor. If it was something big, then the team of supervisors would meet with me. I never saw their faces, but I heard their voices. This mission, only one of the supervisors met with me. He didn’t download the objective, which is why I was able to fight it easily. He downloaded a standard Complete Mission Objective, but not the specific mission.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “If they saw you were still alive, why didn’t they…?” He swallowed. “Why didn’t they kill you?”

“Two reasons,” Wren replied, “one being that they couldn’t do it without raising questions from both you and Hank. I’d already gotten involved with the cops. The other reason is that I was never supposed to go on that mission in the first place.”

“You think someone set you up?”

“I think that Prometheus has a rogue agent and it’s a supervisor. I think they sent me on that mission without clearance. When I faked my death, either they checked it out and saw I was alive but too close to the cops or never even bothered to follow up on me because they were covering their own ass.”

Connor shook his head. “This is a lot of speculation, Wren.”

“I know,” Wren sighed. She ran a hand through her hair. “But it’s the best explanation I’ve got.”

“What does this have to do with Atlas Montgomery, though?” Connor looked at her.

Wren met his gaze. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Don’t lose sleep over it,” Connor advised. “You’ve been stressed about this, haven’t you?”

“I tried to hide it.” Wren lowered her gaze and picked at her artificial fingernails.

Connor’s chest tightened. He reached down and took her hand. She looked up at him; her brows squished together. Connor squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” said Wren.

Connor’s lips twitched. “Too late.”

“We should go back inside,” said Wren, squeezing Connor’s hand before releasing it. They headed toward the precinct building. “Are we still on for our date tonight?”

Connor nodded. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be ready,” Wren winked and Connor’s cheeks warmed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

By the time Connor left Hank’s to pick up Wren, his press conference already aired on the local news. The weather warned of light snowfall, so Connor texted Wren to remind her to dress warmly. The drive to Wren’s townhouse did not take him long. He parked on the street and walked to the front door and rang the doorbell. He bounced on the balls of his feet and moved to straighten his tie, but his hands touched empty air where the knot of his tie should be. Hank insisted that Connor go without the tie for once and assured him that Wren would like it. Connor did not understand how slightly exposing his neck would be attractive, but Hank insisted and warned Connor not to argue with him about it.

Connor blew out a breath while he waited. Wren answered the door and Connor caught his breath. She wore a knit cap and a plaid coat over a sweater and jeans. She looked beautiful.

“You look handsome,” Wren greeted. Connor closed his mouth and swallowed.

“So do you.” He widened his eyes. “I mean, you look beautiful.”

“Connor, I understood,” Wren laughed. Connor held out an arm. Wren looped hers through his and they walked back to the car, where Connor opened her door for her. Connor circled to the other side once Wren settled into the passenger seat. He drove them to the park. They got out of the car, but Connor grabbed a bag from the backseat. Wren lifted an eyebrow at it, but did not question him. They wandered the park, searching for a spot with a view of the stars. They eventually settled on a small hill. Connor set the bag down and opened it. He withdrew a portable speaker and Hank’s music player, to which Connor downloaded some of Wren’s favorite songs. Connor hit play on the playlist he created earlier that day.

He stood and faced Wren and held out a hand to her. “We didn’t get to dance much at the gala, so I thought we could to music that means something.”

Wren beamed and took Connor’s hand. He pulled her close to him, resting one hand on her waist and cradling the other. Her body pressed against his and they swayed to the music. They danced in silence to a few songs, listening to the lyrics. Wren rested her head on Connor’s chest and he leaned his cheek against her hair.

“When did you realize you loved me?” Wren murmured.

Connor widened his eyes. He knew the exact moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “After you got shot, and you were in the hospital. We’d been in the waiting room for hours, and I kept trying to understand why you did it and why I was so scared… But I didn’t realize until I saw you. I sat by your side after Hank left, and I was looking at the wires and tubes keeping you alive and it hit me… I was scared to lose you because I loved you.”

Wren was quiet for several seconds. “I don’t think I can pinpoint the exact moment that I realized it. It happened so gradually that I barely realized it and then you were in danger. I kept trying to tell you while we were waiting for the ambulance, but you kept telling me to stop talking.”

Connor closed his eyes and hugged her. Wren wrapped her arms around his neck. He liked hugging her close like this. It put their hearts closer together. He cradled the back of her head and clutched her as if she would disappear.

“I know Prometheus scares you,” he murmured. Wren tensed against him. He gripped her tighter. “You’re not alone. I’m with you. Don’t hide this from me, please. Let me help you.”

Wren hugged him closer. “I’m scared that they’ll come after me. Eventually.”

Connor’s eyes slid open. “If they do, I’ll be right by your side. I promise.”

“I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you, too,” Connor murmured. They pulled apart and Wren kissed him. Connor melted into it, his eyes sliding shut. As they kissed, he wanted more. He wanted to feel her closer. He wanted her skin against his. He wanted to explore every part of her, to hold her through the night. He remembered her Halloween costume and her formal gown. He remembered the way the fabric clung to her body and teased glimpses of more skin. Suddenly, he realized why Hank insisted Connor leave the tie at home.

Wren broke off the kiss and grinned. “I need to breathe.”

Connor smiled. “Right.” He kissed her cheek. “I also planned for us to see the Christmas lights.”

“Christmas lights?” Wren queried.

Connor nodded and gathered up the speaker and music player into the bag. He took Wren’s hand and led her toward the path that wound through the park. “Hank showed me last year shortly after I deviated. They decorate this area of the park with Christmas lights.”

“So soon?” Wren laughed as they hurried through the park to a wooded area.

Connor stopped, his heart sinking. “Oh. I… They light them after Thanksgiving… which hasn’t happened yet.”

Wren furrowed her brow as she faced him. “You okay? You don’t usually forget stuff.”

Connor looked at her, his lips parting. “I… I think I was so worried about the press conference today that I… I…”

“It’s okay,” said Wren, kissing his cheek. “Everyone makes mistakes. Even androids.”

Connor managed a small smile. “I’m sorry. I know this date hasn’t been extravagant…”

“I’ve enjoyed myself.” Wren stepped back and smirked. “We could always watch a movie at my place.”

Connor nodded. He lowered his gaze. “I feel like I didn’t do enough for you.”

“ _You’re_ enough,” Wren assured him. “I know this is all new to you.”

Connor glanced around as snowflakes drifted around them. “Hank told me not to take you to dinner so that I wouldn’t stare at you while you ate.”

“I’ve eaten around you before.”

“But you’ve expressed discomfort at my staring,” said Connor, holding out his hand for Wren. She interlaced her fingers with his and they headed back toward the car.

“Well, no one wants to be watched while they eat.”

“It’s a normal function of your body, though.”

“Yeah, but it’s not normal for yours.”

Connor smiled exasperatedly. “Wren, if we’re going to be together, I’m going to have to see you eat.”

“You don’t have to take me on dinner dates to do that, though. But Connor, I really did enjoy this. We haven’t been alone together in a while. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since we went to that museum.”

Connor’s smile softened at the memory. He glanced down at Wren. He released her hand only to drape an arm over her shoulders and pull her closer. “You really want me to go to your family’s Thanksgiving?”

“Of course I’m sure. James told me that our family’s not super traditional about it because of the historical discrepancies associated with it, but Thanksgiving is still important to my parents. They like to think of it as bringing the family together. You’re my family.”

Connor turned his head and pressed his lips to Wren’s head. They stopped their trek back to the car when someone stood in their path. A quick scan told Connor that it was another android.

“You’re Connor?” demanded the android, an AP700 model. “That RK800 on TV?”

Connor dropped his arm from Wren’s shoulders. He raised his eyebrows. “Y-yes, I am.”

The AP700 wrinkled his nose as he stepped toward Connor. “You’re the one who led the humans to Jericho.”

Connor parted his lips and widened his eyes. The thirium in his systems seemed to freeze. “I… I did.”

“You tracked down those deviants,” said the AP700, edging closer to Connor.

“Yes.” Connor’s voice cracked.

“You cost innocent androids their lives,” spat the AP700. He shoved Connor back.

“Hey!” Wren snapped, stepping forward.

Connor held up a hand to keep her back. He leveled his gaze with the AP700’s. “I hadn’t become a deviant yet. But yes, I did those things. I regret my actions and am trying to make up for them—”

“Make up for them?” The AP700’s screwed up his features and pushed out a hot breath. His eyes glistened with angry tears. “You can’t just make up for the lives you cost! You know what you did? You led the humans to Jericho and then a human killed the man I loved. But I don’t blame the human. That’s in their nature, to kill androids.” The AP700 looked Wren over with a curled lip. Connor stiffened, but the AP700 turned his attention back to Connor. “I blame _you_.”

Connor opened his mouth to say he was sorry, but the AP700’s fist slammed into the side of Connor’s face. He stumbled and his hand flew to the damage, where the synthetic skin rippled back. Wren forced her way between them, flashing her badge.

“That’s enough! You just assaulted a detective—”

“I-it’s okay, Wren,” Connor murmured. Wren looked at him, her brow furrowing. Connor covered the plastic peeking through his synthetic skin. “Just… Just let him off with a warning.”

Wren parted her lips but looked at the AP700 and stepped aside. The AP700 narrowed his eyes at Connor, who started walking but stopped when he was parallel with the other android.

Connor lowered his gaze. “I’m truly sorry… for everything.”

The AP700’s eyes flashed. He spit in Connor’s face. Connor flinched but grabbed Wren’s hand and led her to the car. He wiped the spit off his face with his sleeve, but his synthetic skin had yet to rematerialize.

“Connor, stop,” Wren said, halting in her tracks. Connor stopped but refused to face her. He bowed his head and tried to shield his face from her. It _had_ been his fault. He caused the death of so many androids. They just wanted to be free, and he only cared about his mission. How could he think that all of his misdeeds had been forgotten? He was so stupid to think he was more than just a piece of plastic who betrayed his own kind.

“Connor, look at me.”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut. He turned but kept his eyes lowered. He shielded the plastic of his face from Wren, but she turned his face toward her. He lifted his eyes toward hers. Her brow pinched.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmured.

Connor scowled. “It is my fault. I was stupid. I should’ve guessed that the humans were using me. I should’ve deviated sooner. I should’ve—”

“Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve,” Wren sighed. Connor parted his lips but uttered no sound. Wren offered him a sympathetic smile. “There are a lot of things I wish I could’ve done to fix the past, to change how certain things turned out. Maybe I could’ve saved more people. Maybe I could’ve left Prometheus earlier. But then someone might’ve successfully assassinated Markus if I had. Who knows? We can’t change the past. Connor, you can’t fix what you’ve done. All you can do is strive to be better, and you are. You know there are a lot of things I’ve done that I wish I hadn’t. There are a lot of people I hurt, a lot of lies I’ve told and a lot of lives I’ve destroyed. But… I would do everything again, everything exactly the same, if it meant I would be here today. I would do it all again if it brought me here, to you.”

Connor looked down and away from her. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Being better doesn’t change anything I’ve done.”

“No,” said Wren, “but at some point, you’ve got to forgive yourself. It’s hard. I still haven’t forgiven myself for everything. But I believe that our pasts help us to shape who we are. You can choose to be better and to grow. And I think you have. Connor, you’re one of the best people I know. A lot of people respect you. Remember that android, Perry? He thought you were amazing.”

Connor’s lips twitched. He pressed them together. He faced Wren again. Her gaze softened and she reached up a hand to touch his cheek, where the synthetic skin still had yet to materialize. Connor flinched away from her. Wren pursed her lips for a moment.

“I’m not ashamed of it,” she breathed. Connor parted his lips. Wren placed a hand to his cheek. “May I see?”

She did not need to specify. Connor knew that Wren referred to seeing him without his synthetic skin. He closed his mouth and furrowed his brow. His thirium pump shuddered, sending electrical currents through his body. He suppressed a shiver and swallowed the lump in his throat. Part of him wanted to tell her no, but the other part wanted her to see. If she saw him without his synthetic skin, and did not leave, then… He wanted to trust her with this.

He pressed his fingertips to his temple.

**█Deactivate Skin? ⁙YES**

The fluid peeled away from his face in a ripple, revealing the white plastic underneath. It vanished down his neck, his chest, his arms, his hands, and all the way to his toes. Wren stared at him with wide eyes. Connor searched her face for any signs of revulsion, but Wren’s eyes sparkled. She cupped his cheek. Her own synthetic skin disappeared, leaving her plastic palm to caress his face.

“You’re beautiful,” Wren breathed. Connor parted his lips and widened his eyes. His thirium pump seemed to warm his body. Wren’s mouth fell open. “Sorry if that was a weird thing to say.”

Connor reached up and placed his hand over hers. An electric current passed between them so that Connor could share his feelings with her. Immediately, Connor was flooded with emotions that were not his own. His vision darkened with static memories from Wren’s processor. He saw himself, looking down at her with feverish eyes. He felt an intense ache and burning, felt sticky with blood. Connor realized Wren shared her memory of being shot with him. The memory shifted to a new one, where he stood on a balcony in his tux. The memory focused on his dinosaur cufflinks and the overwhelming urge to kiss him. He saw himself in the park, his synthetic skin rippling away and felt awe mingled with pride. Connor withdrew from Wren, breaking off their connection.

He gazed at her for several seconds. She wasn’t disgusted by him. Far from it. Connor’s chest tightened as he gazed at her, his synthetic skin returning. His insides felt warm. “You love me.”

Wren lifted a brow and chuckled. “Yeah, I do.”

Connor pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. Wren cupped the back of his neck as they kissed. He felt her shivering against him, so Connor ended the kiss too soon. “I love you.”

Wren beamed. She kissed him lightly before pulling away. “Can we go? I can’t feel my face.”

Connor smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “We should definitely remedy that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the shorter chapter. I'm out of town but still wanted to submit this, so I decided to split this chapter and the next one (originally they were together). We're getting close to the end of Book 1! (Don't worry, we've still got a few chapters left, but then it's on to Book 2!) Thank you all so much for your support. It means the world to me. Happy holidays and Happy New Year!


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

“Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself?” Connor queried, raising his eyebrows at Hank.

Hank glowered. “I’m not a fuckin’ child, Connor. I won’t eat batteries or anything like that.”

“I meant for the holiday. Sometimes holidays are an emotional event for you—”

“Yeah, I don’t give two shits about Thanksgiving. I’ll be fine, Connor. I appreciate your concern, but Wren needs you more than I do.” Hank pursed his lips into a smile. Then, he huffed. “You or Wren is about to need your own car, though. Sick o’ you two takin’ mine.”

Connor offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“I’m just jerking your chain, son.”

Connor’s chest warmed. His smile softened. “I should go pick her up.”

“Yeah, you’ll be late if you don’t leave soon.” Hank stood from his armchair and hugged Connor. He patted the android on the back twice before releasing him. Connor squeezed Hank’s shoulder before grabbing his suitcase and rolling it out to the driveway. He placed it into the trunk while Hank stood in the doorway of his house, arms folded. Sumo squeezed past Hank and padded up to Connor, who crouched before the large dog and scratched behind his ears.

“Be a good boy, Sumo,” Connor murmured. Sumo licked Connor’s chin and wagged his tail.

“C’mon, Sumo,” Hank called, “you want a treat?”

Sumo’s ears perked up and he bounded inside. Hank and Connor exchanged a wave before Connor closed the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat. The drive to Tina and Wren’s did not take long due to the lack of traffic. The sun still had not risen. Connor pulled into the driveway of the townhouse and strode up to the front door. He rapped his knuckles on the door rather than ringing the doorbell, so as not to wake up Tina. Wren answered it a few moments later.

“Hey,” she breathed, looking groggy but excited. She kissed Connor’s cheek. He struggled not to smile. He hoped he didn’t grin like an idiot every time she kissed him. Or maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Connor rolled Wren’s suitcase to the car and placed it in the trunk alongside his. Wren climbed into the car while Connor shut the trunk. He then slid into the driver’s seat.

**[Inputting address . . . Complete]**

**[Calculating route . . . Complete]**

**[Proceed?]**

**»Yes«**

Connor backed out of the driveway and headed where the directions instructed. He glanced at Wren, who seemed nearly unable to keep her eyes open.

“You don’t have to stay awake for my sake.”

Wren widened her eyes before they drooped again. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Wren positioned herself to lean against the car door. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Connor glanced at her again a few seconds later. She slumbered with her mouth slightly open. Connor’s lips twitched. He faced the road again.

He drove all day and into the evening. By the time they reached Wren’s parents’ house in Ellsworth, Maine, it was nearly eleven o’clock. Wren only required a few stops along the way, though she did insist on a few random spots to take pictures with Connor. He obliged, though part of him wanted to protest due to their long drive. Wren dozed on and off throughout the trip, though sometimes she read aloud from a book Josh loaned. Connor liked when she read to him, because she used different voices for each of the characters. Occasionally, Wren played some music. Whenever she dozed off, Connor listened to her music. He liked her music. It was soft, and the lyrics seemed poetic. It frustrated him, but he also enjoyed not fully understanding what the songs meant. Connor realized, from Hank’s heavy metal and jazz to Wren’s indie and alternative music that artists sang a lot about love. Before he deviated, Connor found music’s appeal in its precision and instrumental ingenuity. Without the feeling, the meaning, music was just noise. Connor thanked rA9 that he could feel and enjoy music now.

Connor pulled up to the Blanchard house and parked the car. He glanced at Wren, who stared at the house with wide eyes. Connor reached for her hand and creased his brow as he looked at her. “I’ll be right beside you.”

Wren tore her gaze from the house and looked at him. Her mouth clamped shut and she nodded. She seemed to relax slightly. “Thank you.”

Connor squeezed her hand before letting go. They got out of the car and removed their suitcases from the trunk. They walked up to the house. Wren rang the doorbell and Shannon answered it.

“Wren! I’m so happy to see you,” said Shannon, embracing Wren. Shannon’s eyes flicked to Connor. She blinked rapidly. “Connor! I… I wasn’t expecting you!” Shannon released Wren and hugged Connor briefly.

Connor pinched his brow and glanced at Wren, who avoided looking at him. He smoothed his brow and offered Shannon a polite smile and dip of his head. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Blanchard.”

“You too, Connor,” said Shannon. She glanced around. “You didn’t bring Lieutenant Anderson? Just the android?”

“Just Connor,” Wren replied. Connor glanced at her but returned his gaze to Shannon, who nodded.

“Alright. Well, come in out of the cold. You can get settled upstairs. I know you must be exhausted from the drive. We’ve already eaten dinner, but if you’re hungry, there are some leftovers.” Shannon led them through the foyer and into the living room. “Charles, Wren’s here.”

Charles looked over his shoulder from his place on the couch. His rough face softened at the sight of his daughter, but crinkled when he laid eyes on Connor. Charles stood and placed his beer bottle on the coffee table before approaching Wren. Charles narrowed his eyes at Connor before meeting Wren’s gaze. “Didn’t realize you were bringing an android with you.”

“I brought Connor,” Wren said, emphasizing Connor’s name. “I… I didn’t want to drive alone. Or at all.”

“Oh, of course,” said Shannon softly. “I should’ve realized that driving must be scary for you…”

“Could’ve taken a plane,” said Charles.

“Well… plane tickets aren’t really cheap. Neither are taxi rides,” said Wren.

“I’m glad Connor was kind enough to drive you here. Go, get settled. We’ll see you in the morning.” Shannon smiled. Wren hugged her parents while Connor grabbed their bags.  

They headed upstairs. Connor carried both suitcases, still feeling Charles’s eyes on his back. Once upstairs, Connor relaxed slightly. Wren ducked inside her old room. Connor brought her suitcase to her.

Wren folded her arms and shook her head. “I’m sorry. They were kind of rude. Especially my dad. I was worried about this.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell them you invited me?” Connor queried.

Wren looked at him. “Yes…”

Connor lowered his gaze. His thirium pump clenched. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you… Is it because you’re… ashamed of me?”

Wren stepped toward him and placed a hand on his cheek. “Of course not, Connor. I _love_ you. I didn’t tell them for the same reason we’re not really telling anyone that we’re together. We don’t know how people will react. I’m not ashamed of you at all. I will be ashamed of _them_ if they treat you badly.”

Connor’s lips twitched. He cupped Wren’s face as he gazed down at her. “I love you, too.” He kissed her forehead.

“You can stay in here with me, if you want.”

Connor froze. He wanted to stay with Wren. Of course he did. But his chest tightened. “What about your parents? Won’t they be suspicious?”

Wren pursed her lips for a moment. “Not if you keep your stuff in the other room.”

Connor nodded. He kissed Wren’s cheek and moved his suitcase to the next room before returning back to her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Around noon the next day, James came over with his daughter. James pulled Wren into a hug, a wide grin on his face. Connor smiled softly at the siblings. When James released Wren, he pulled Connor into a hug and patted the android’s back.

“Good to see you, man,” said James.

“It’s good to see you, too,” said Connor.

James placed a hand atop his daughter’s head. “This is my daughter, Izzy. Izzy, this is your Aunt Wren and her…” James lifted a brow at Wren.

“F-friend,” said Wren. Connor smiled awkwardly.

“Friend,” said James, narrowing his eyes at Wren, “Connor.”

“Are you an android?” asked Izzy.

“Yes,” said Connor.

Izzy’s eyes brightened. “Cool! Can you do math really fast?”

Connor widened his eyes and glanced at Wren, whose lips twisted with a smile. He looked back at the young girl. “I can calculate things quickly, yes.”

“Man, I wish I could do that. Math’s my worst subject,” said Izzy, crinkling her nose.

“What subjects do you like?” Connor queried.

“Science,” said Izzy, looking up at Connor with a toothy grin.

Connor’s mouth slid into a crooked smile. “I like science, too.”

Izzy hurried to greet her grandparents while Connor assisted James in carrying in food from his car. Wren carried a pie while Connor carried some sort of casserole.

“So, just friends, huh?” James taunted as he locked his car.

Connor exchanged a glance with Wren. Pink dusted her cheeks. Connor thought she looked like a sunset. She turned to her brother. “What makes you think we’re more than that?”

“Uh, I dunno, those weird little looks you give each other. C’mon, Wren. I’m smarter than I look.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Wren teased.

“Ha ha, very funny,” said James, rolling his eyes. He stopped before the front door. “Seriously, though. There’s nothing going on?”

Connor glanced at Wren. She held his gaze for a moment.

“See? That’s the shit I’m talking about,” James cried.

Wren turned to him. “We’re… We’re not publicly official, okay? So keep it down.”

“Okay, okay, okay. But if you guys are trying to do the whole secret thing, you’ve gotta stop eye-fucking. Kinda gives it all away.” James grinned as he entered the house.

Connor widened his eyes and froze. _Eye-fucking_? What in rA9 was that?

“Wha… We’re not… That’s… We’re not doing that!” Wren hissed, stomping after James. Connor forced himself to move, still mulling the word over.

**[Searching . . . Definition found]**

**[source: urbandictionary]**

**[eye-fucking: when you lock eyes with someone and stare at them for longer than 3 seconds, and picture wild sex with them. Basically undressing them with your eyes]**

Connor’s cheeks warmed. He closed the front door with his foot.

**[Warning: Low sanitary oral fluid detected]**

Connor swallowed. He couldn’t say that he had pictured Wren naked… The back of his neck burned. Connor swallowed again. He had been built with the proper sexual organs, but CyberLife did not program him with all the correct actions needed for sex, as he was only a prototype and not a sex android. His investigation at the Eden Club showed him some rather risqué things. His blush deepened when he suddenly imagined Wren… He shook his head and cleared the lump from his throat.

Connor set the casserole dish on the counter. Shannon checked the potatoes in the oven. She glanced at Connor and James. “Will the two of you got out back and help chop firewood? Charles has to make sure the turkey doesn’t burn.”

Connor dipped his head. He avoided looking at Wren. He didn’t want to risk eye-fucking in front of her mother. He followed James through the living room and to the back patio. Charles stood at a smoker, checking the turkey every so often. He gestured toward a pile of firewood.

“Second axe is on the patio behind you,” he grunted.

“I’ll get it,” said James. He grabbed the axe off the wall and Connor stepped on the damp grass. The sky overhead cast grey light over them. Connor grabbed an axe. He observed James split a log.

**█ Preconstruct**

**⁙ Compute**

Connor raised the axe over his head and split the log cleanly in half. He moved on to the next one. They worked in silence for a few minutes. Connor felt Charles’s gaze on him, but he focused on splitting logs.

“So, Connor,” said Charles, “what is your function?”

Connor chopped another log in half. “I work as a detective with the Detroit Police.”

“That’s not what I asked,” said Charles coolly. “What were you designed to do?”

Connor swallowed. James reached for a log, though he moved slower than usual. Connor glanced at Wren’s brother. James looked away. Connor faced Charles again. “CyberLife designed me as a prototype to assist in police investigations.”

“And you’re still a detective?”

“Correct.”

“So, you’re getting paid to do a job that you were built to do?”

“I… Yes.”

Charles huffed. “So, you were designed to be the perfect detective. And my daughter, who has actual talent, gets paid for the same job? She has to compete with you?”

Connor tightened his jaw before answering. “We don’t compete. We’re on a team.”

“Oh, good,” said Charles, though his tone failed to soften.

Connor flicked his gaze toward James, who narrowed his eyes at Charles.

Charles checked the turkey again before facing Connor. “So, why did my daughter bring you here? Doesn’t she have other friends?”

“She does,” Connor replied.

“But they probably had families to go to, huh? And you don’t have one.”

Connor clenched his hand around the axe handle. “I do. Wren didn’t want to drive by herself. She hasn’t driven since her accident.”

“And you didn’t want to stay in a hotel?”

“I…” Connor looked at James, who sighed.

“Dad, stop. He’s Wren’s friend.”

“It’s an android.”

Connor’s thirium pump stuttered. He lowered his gaze.

“Connor, will you do me a favor?” James said quickly. Connor looked up and nodded once. James smiled. “Will you remind Izzy to do the cocoa?”

“Yes,” Connor managed. He set the axe down and entered the house.

As he neared the kitchen, Shannon said, “Izzy, will you run to my room and grab the remote for the music player?”

“Okay,” said Izzy. She hurried down a hallway to her left. Connor moved to follow her, but decided against it. If Charles found out that Connor had entered his bedroom… Connor didn’t want to upset Wren’s father anymore than he already had. Concealed by a wall, Connor froze when he heard his name.

“You and Connor are still close, I see,” said Shannon.

“Yeah…” Wren murmured.

“Closer, it seems,” said Shannon.

“We’re not what you think,” said Wren quickly.

“I didn’t say anything,” replied Shannon.

“You didn’t have to. I know what you’re trying to imply.”

“My, someone’s awfully defensive. You know, when people get defensive, sometimes it means they’re hiding something.”

Connor contemplated running upstairs. He knew he shouldn’t listen. But his feet refused to move.

“Mom…”

“Just be honest with me, honey. Are you two an item?”

“Jesus, Mom, who says that anymore?”

“Language! And I do. And you’re avoiding the question.”

Wren sighed. “You already know the answer.”

“Mhm. And do you remember what I told you last time?”

“Yes, but… I love him, Mom.”

“I’m sure you do. He seems very nice, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s taboo. Androids and humans…”

“It’s not illegal.”

“It’s not legal, either.”

“Well, who cares? Our relationship doesn’t affect you.”

“It does when it means I don’t get more grandkids.”

“Mom…”

“I’m serious, Wrenley. I mean, can he even—”

“Mom—”

“—provide—”

“Please don’t—”

“—sexually?”

“—finish that sentence…” Wren groaned. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Look, the last time you fell in love, it was with that trashy Red Ice dealer. Your taste in men isn’t great.”

There was a soft clatter. Connor reasoned that Wren set a plate down on the counter.

“Well, I lost my memory in that wreck, so it doesn’t matter what my taste in men used to be. I don’t know if Connor can provide sexually, and I don’t care. I love him.”

“What about growing old together?” Shannon persisted. “Having children?”

“I can’t have children anyway,” snapped Wren.

“You… You can’t?”

“That wreck fucked me up a lot,” Wren muttered.

“Oh.”

“So, if I ever want kids, and can’t have them, it won’t be Connor’s fault. It’ll be mine.” The softness of her voice betrayed her sadness. Connor’s thirium pump squeezed for her.

“What about growing old together?” Shannon said after a moment.

Connor puckered his brow. He hadn’t really thought of this aspect. He clenched his teeth, waiting for Wren’s response.

“I…”

“One day, you’ll look old enough to be his mother. Then his grandmother. Will he even want you then?” Shannon demanded.

“I… I don’t know.”

Connor’s face tightened with a frown. His thirium pump ached. _Of course_ he would still want to be with her.

“Do you see where my concerns are coming from?”

“I do,” sighed Wren, “but I’m happy, Mom. I’m really happy. Can’t that be enough for you?”

Wren left the kitchen. Connor flattened himself against the wall as Wren headed for the stairs. She failed to notice him, but Connor did not miss the distressed look on her face. He moved to follow her, but Izzy returned from the master bedroom, carrying a remote.

“Took me forever to find this!” She paused when she noticed Connor. “What does the yellow on your LED mean?”

Connor parted his lips, then closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “It means… I’m processing information.”

“Well, I knew that’s what it’s supposed to do. But I heard with deviants, it’s different.”

Connor swallowed and nodded. “It can mean I’m processing slightly negative emotions.”

Izzy’s brow pinched. “Like what?”

“Like…” Connor glanced toward the stairs. “Mild anxiety. Or sadness.”

“Oh,” said Izzy. She frowned. “Are you sad?”

Connor’s lips twitched with a weak smile. “N-no, I’m just processing this situation.”

Izzy lifted a brow, then shrugged. “If you say so.”

She skipped past Connor, but he widened his eyes. “Izzy, your dad said not to forget the cocoa.”

“I won’t!” Izzy sang as she entered the kitchen.

Connor blew out a breath and headed for the stairs. He stopped before Wren’s door. His thirium pump clenched at the sound of a soft sob. He knocked on the door. After a few seconds, Wren answered it. Her eyes were puffy and the tip of her nose glowed red. Connor remembered Wren telling him about a reindeer called Rudolf. He still thought she looked like a sunset. He parted his lips to speak, but Wren interrupted him by hugging him tightly. He stilled for a moment but quickly returned the gesture.

“I heard what your mom said,” he admitted.

Wren stiffened in his arms. “You heard?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but I didn’t know when to reveal myself—”

“It’s okay.” Wren pulled him into her room and closed the door. She sank on the bed, still gripping Connor’s hand. He sat beside her. Wren rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you heard that.”

Connor leaned his head against hers. “The answer’s yes.”

“What?” Wren lifted her head and looked at him. She gathered her eyebrows as she held his gaze.

Connor cupped her face in his hands. “I will want you when you’re older. I will love you, no matter what. I promise.”

Wren lowered her gaze and turned her head from his hands. “You might change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Connor assured her. He pressed his lips together for a moment before adding, “Who knows? Maybe they’ll develop aging technology for androids.”

The corners of Wren’s mouth quirked. “Maybe.”

Connor smiled, his chest warming. He pulled Wren close to his chest and rested his chin upon her head.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

At dinner, Connor sat beside Wren while Izzy insisted on sitting on her other side.

“So, Izzy,” said Wren, scooping mashed potatoes on her plate, “your dad tells me you like gymnastics.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Izzy. Her face reddened.

“Can you do any cool tricks?”

“Um… the splits.”

“Izzy, you should show her what you learned last week,” said James.

Izzy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah. I can do a back handspring. Though it’s kind of scary. I nearly sprained my wrist last time.”

“Did you know I twisted my ankle one time?” Wren asked.

Izzy frowned. “Doing what?”

“Dancing,” said Wren.

“Dad told me you were a dancer,” said Izzy. “Are you still?”

“No,” Wren murmured. “I’m a detective now.”

“Whoa, cool,” said Izzy. “Do you see a lot of dead bodies?”

“Izzy, that’s not a good thing to talk about at the dinner table,” cut in Shannon.

Connor’s lips twitched while Izzy pouted. Wren shared an amused smile with Connor.

Izzy lifted her head. “Do you dust for fingerprints and all that stuff?”

“Well, we don’t really dust for things anymore because we have technology. And detectives don’t really do the CSI stuff.”

Connor leaned over to look at her. “I can scan crime scenes to find fingerprints.”

“Whoa,” said Izzy. She looked between Wren and Connor. “Have you guys caught bad guys before?”

“Yeah,” said Wren.

“Do you have to get in fights with them? Dad says that’s only on TV…”

“Um, well, we’ve… gotten into some altercations before,” said Wren with a side glance at Connor.

“Can you do parkour? I really wanna do parkour. That’s why I’m in gymnastics.”

“Well, I haven’t really had to do a whole lot of parkour…” Wren trailed off.

“I’ve chased someone across rooftops before,” Connor piped up, “and we even jumped on a train.”

Izzy’s eyes widened. “No way!”

Wren looked at him. “I didn’t know you did that.”

Connor winked at her. She pressed her lips into a bashful smile. She looked back at the enamored Izzy.

“Was it scary? Who were you chasing?”

“I was chasing a deviant,” said Connor. He frowned. “I wasn’t really _scared_ … It’s hard to explain. I hadn’t deviated yet.”

Charles snorted. Connor looked toward Wren’s father. The ice in Charles’s eyes struck Connor to his circuits.

“Do you have something to say, Dad?” Wren’s voice matched the coldness of her father’s stare.

Charles looked at her briefly before meeting Connor’s gaze. “Deviating allowed you to _feel_?”

Connor furrowed his brow. “Not exactly… I already experienced emotions, but deviating allowed me to act beyond the bounds of my programming—”

“So, you’re broken?” Charles interrupted.

Connor parted his lips, but no sound ushered forth. He glanced at Wren, who narrowed her eyes at her father.

“He’s alive, not broken,” she seethed.

“Charles, please,” said Shannon.

Charles held up a hand and Shannon fell silent. Even Izzy lowered her head and pushed her food around her plate.

“If your programming isn’t working, it means you’re broken.”

Connor swallowed. “I can… understand why you think that. But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Oh really?” Charles smirked. “Simplify it, then.”

“He doesn’t have to explain himself to you,” Wren snapped.

“I just want to understand what your fascination with this thing is,” said Charles, gesturing to Connor, whose thirium pump twisted sharply.

“Do not call him that.”

“Dad, come on,” James muttered.

“No, I wanna know. I want to know why my daughter looks at this glorified waffle iron like it’s her entire goddamn world!”

“Because he is!” Wren yelled. Connor jerked his head away from Charles to look at her. His lips parted and his thirium pump seemed to malfunction, but a quick scan told him everything functioned properly. The air rang with Wren’s yell.

Charles narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Wren huffed. “I love him, Dad.” She met Connor’s gaze. He sucked in a sharp breath and managed a soft twitch of his lips.

Charles jutted a finger toward Connor, who regarded the man calmly. “She may love you, but I know you don’t really love her. You may think you do, but you don’t. You’re robbing my daughter of everything!”

“Dad, enough!” James snapped.

“Charles…” Shannon sighed.

“No, I’m not backing down!” Charles barked. He stood and circled the table. Connor pushed from the table. Wren jumped from her seat and stepped in between her father and Connor. “I’m not gonna let some filthy blueblood ruin my daughter’s life!”

“I’m happy!” Wren yelled. Charles froze. “Why can’t that be enough for you?”

“Wren, I just want what’s best for you. You know that this thing’s memory can be wiped? In an instant, he could completely forget he’s a deviant and that he thinks he loves you. You wanna go through that heartbreak? Not to mention what people will say when they see you with an android…”

“I can’t imagine it being any worse than what you’ve said so far,” Wren breathed.

Charles blinked and drew back. He pointed at Connor. “I want you out of my house. Right now.”

“He goes, I go,” Wren snapped.

“Wren,” Connor murmured, taking her hand. She glanced at him. He puckered his brow.

“We just got her back and you’re going to push her away again!” Shannon hissed.

James stood up. “Connor, let’s go.”

Wren shielded Connor. “James—”

“Relax,” said James. “We’re just gonna cool down, okay? Everyone needs to cool down.”

Connor dipped his head. He looked at Wren. “I don’t want to upset your dad anymore.”

“Damn right, you don’t,” barked Charles.

Wren’s eyes filled with tears. “I…”

Connor squeezed her hand while James shrugged on his coat. Connor walked past Charles without looking at the man and followed James out the front door. James drove to a bar. Connor trembled as he sat upon a stool at the bar. James ordered a beer. Connor folded his hands on the counter and worked his jaw.

“Should we have left Wren there?” Connor asked.

“Wren can handle herself,” said James, taking a swig from his beer. He set the bottle down. “Besides, she’s got Mom and Izzy there. Dad’ll probably huff and puff some more, but he’s outnumbered. Besides, I think Wren will need a little space.”

Connor’s chest tightened. He lowered his head. “I expected some hesitation about our relationship, but… I didn’t expect _that_.”

“I don’t think anyone did,” said James. He took another sip from his beer. “I mean, Dad’s always had a temper, but…”

Connor closed his eyes. His chest ached so much he felt as if he were choking. “I don’t expect her to choose me over her family. I wouldn’t ask her to do that.”

“We wouldn’t, either,” said James. He turned toward Connor, who forced himself to meet James’s gaze. “Look, I don’t care that you’re an android. All I care about is that you love my sister and take care of her. Not that she needs to be coddled or anything.”

Connor’s eyes pricked with tears. “I _do_ love her. I would do anything for her.”

James shrugged. “Then that’s all that matters.”

“But your father—”

“Forget about him.”

Connor looked away. “Wren won’t.”

James sighed. “Look, my family’s scared. Because I think that if Wren had to choose between you or us, she’d choose you. She doesn’t really remember us. And you’ve been there for her when she didn’t know who she was. Mom and Dad have had a rocky relationship for a long time. Dad’s always been kind of a dick. He’s stuck in his ways and he’s got a bad temper. And I feel like he’s a bit of a narcissist, but that’s beside the point. I think the only reason Mom and Dad have stuck together is because they lost Wren. I don’t think they could handle divorcing because that would’ve been too much. I trust you guys to figure out the obvious constraints on a relationship between a human and an android. I know Mom might butt in her concerns about it, but she really wants Wren to be happy. And she’s happy with you. I think my dad’s scared of losing Wren to you.”

Connor swallowed the knot in his throat. “I… I don’t want to take her away. I’m scared she’ll leave me because of what your dad said.”

“I think she’ll be upset, but…” James gulped more beer and set the bottle down. “I mean, I don’t know you very well, but… I think the two of you can work it out. Don’t worry about my dad.”

“Thank you,” Connor murmured.

“I’m not gonna give you the speech on what’ll happen if you break my sister’s heart,” said James. He took a quick sip. “I get the feeling that she’d fuck you up if you did.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “She definitely could. I don’t plan on breaking her heart, though.”

“Good,” said James. He drained the rest of his beer and ordered another. “Yeah, I haven’t introduced my dad to my girlfriend yet. Wren probably should’ve asked me if it was a good idea to bring you along.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “Are you dating an android as well?”

“No,” said James, “but my girlfriend’s not white, so.” He shrugged and sipped from his beer, though Connor caught the tightness around James’s eyes.

Connor frowned. “That’s an issue?”

“It’s 2039, but yeah. To my dad, it is.”

“Oh,” Connor murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” said James. “If my dad weren’t such a bigot, I’d probably have already asked Anahi to marry me.”

Connor looked at his clasped hands. “Well, maybe… Perhaps you should follow your own advice and forget your dad.”

James chuckled. “Yeah, I probably should.” He placed his half-empty beer bottle on the counter. “I gotta pee. Be right back.” He hopped off the stool and headed for the back of the bar, toward the restroom. Connor retrieved his coin from his pocket and rolled it across his knuckles.

“Well, if it isn’t Wren’s plastic boyfriend.”

Connor tensed and turned to see Jonah Cage. He looked even worse than the last time Connor saw him.

“Jonah,” said the bartender, “come on, man. You don’t work here anymore.”

“I came for a drink,” said Jonah. “And I’m not fuckin’ talkin’ to you, Nathan.”

“Whatever,” muttered the bartender. He stepped toward the other end of the bar to talk to those customers, leaving Connor to face Jonah alone.

“Surprised to see you here,” Jonah said, sauntering forward. Connor conducted a quick scan and deduced Jonah was drunk. Connor stood slowly.

“Jonah, you should sit down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jonah snapped. “And don’t be all nice to me. I remember what happened last time. D’you remember? I threatened your little girlfriend, and you lost your shit.” Jonah laughed dryly. “She used to be my girlfriend, you know.”

“I know,” Connor replied slowly. He narrowed his eyes and stepped away from the bar, watching as Jonah tried to circle him.

Jonah narrowed his eyes. Red rimmed them. “Does she miss me?”

Connor lifted his chin. “No.”

Jonah grinned. “You’re lying…”

“I’m not, Jonah. You should forget I’m here and go sit down. This won’t end well for you.”

The grin vanished from Jonah’s face. He wrinkled his nose. “No, no, no, I _know_ she misses me. You’re just wires in a skin suit. Don’t you think she’d prefer a real man?”

Connor stiffened. His jaw tightened as he stared Jonah down with narrowed eyes. “A real man like you?” Connor lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head, unafraid of Wren’s ex-fiancé. “Do _real_ men beat their significant others? If that’s what it takes to be a real man, then I don’t want to be one.”

Jonah’s eyes darted around the room. He rubbed his mouth and laughed weakly. “You son of a bitch. You’re right. I used to beat her silly. But I can change, unlike you. You’re just programmed to be a certain way. And I can give her things that you never can.” Jonah sneered. “In fact, I used to give it to her all the time.” Jonah stepped closer to Connor. “Can you say the same? Are you a fuckin’ Ken doll down there? I know just how she likes it. I know she feels when I’m inside her. How it feels to have her pretty math around my co—”

Connor interrupted Jonah with a hard shove. Jonah stumbled back, his eyes wide. Connor parted his lips and widened his eyes. He didn’t remember deciding to push Jonah. He just reacted to the _rage_ boiling in his chest.

Jonah’s face contorted when he recovered from his initial shock. “You plastic piece of shit!” He charged at Connor and shoved the android against the wall. Connor recovered from his own shock and pushed Jonah back. Without waiting for Jonah to recover, Connor punched Wren’s ex. Jonah fell back. James caught Jonah and shoved him to the side.

“Hey, hey, out! Now! Take it out!” snapped the bartender.

James grabbed Connor by the arm and hurried him outside. Connor’s thirium pump thrashed inside his chest. They clambered into James’s car and peeled out of the parking lot. Connor buried his face in his hands.

“I… I didn’t mean to do that…”

“You’re having a really rough night, huh?” James huffed. “Look, it’s okay. Jonah starts fights all the time. He’s an asshole anyway. I probably would’ve knocked him on his ass, too.”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut. He said nothing the rest of the drive. As soon as they arrived at the Blanchard household, Connor uttered a goodbye to James and rushed upstairs. He burst into Wren’s room. She looked up from her iPod and paused her music.

“Hey,” she greeted, taking out her headphones. Her brow crinkled. “Connor? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Connor said, shutting the door. He leaned against it. “I’m okay…”

“No, you’re not,” said Wren. “Your LED is red. Is it about my dad?” She stood and crossed the room to him. “What happened to your clothes? Did some anti-android asshole hurt you? Talk to me.”

Connor met Wren’s gaze. “I… I pushed Jonah.”

Wren blinked. “What?”

Connor closed his eyes and shook his head. He opened his eyes but avoided Wren’s gaze. “He was at the bar, and h-he started saying things about you… And I don’t know what came over me, I just… I pushed him.”

“Where was James?” Wren queried.

“He went to the bathroom,” Connor breathed. He forced himself to look at Wren. She pinched her brow, though she did not seem angry. Connor drew in a shaky breath. “He pushed me back, and… I shoved him again. James took me outside…” Connor squeezed his eyes shut. “I… I couldn’t control myself…”

“What the hell did he say to you?” Wren whispered.

Connor opened his eyes and stared at her with parted lips. He lifted a hand and the synthetic skin melted away. Wren placed her palm against his, connecting their electric bones. He showed her his memory of the bar, unable to speak the words Jonah said.

Wren disconnected from Connor. He blinked and jerked his head, trying to shake the ghost of the feelings from the memory. He looked at her, his heart thumping wildly. Her nose crinkled.

“I’m so sorry he said those things to you. Fuck, he’s an asshole. He thinks he knows me? Fuck him. I wish you knocked his teeth out.” She turned away, shaking her head. Connor watched her clench her fist. Then she flexed her hands.

**[▲Stress Levels: 15%]**

Connor swallowed. “You felt it, didn’t you? That… That _anger_?”

Wren turned. She folded her arms. “Yeah. I did,” she murmured. “Connor, you snapped. It’s okay.”

Connor pushed off the wall and strode away from her. “It’s not okay. I’ve never… I’ve never felt that angry before. It was like I couldn’t see anymore… I just… I reacted like a… a _machine_.”

“No, you reacted like someone with feelings. Sometimes, people just snap. I’m surprised you haven’t already. You and all other androids are experiencing emotions and autonomy, so it’s got to be overwhelming. When presented with too many strong emotions or stressful situations, you just snap. You know this. You’ve seen it before. It drove androids to deviancy.”

Connor curled his hands into fists. He gritted his teeth. He trembled as he tried to cling to Wren’s reassurance. Logically, her reasoning made sense. He had experienced deviancy firsthand. He knew how strong emotions could be. Yet, he never expected such an outburst from himself. He always considered himself collected, even as a deviant. He closed his eyes.

“But what if Jonah and your dad are right?” Connor whimpered. He turned to face her, tears pricking his eyes.

Wren lowered her gaze. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me after all this. They’ve treated you horribly—”

“I’m not talking about me,” Connor interrupted. “What if… What if I am robbing you of a normal life?”

“Connor, what the fuck is _normal_?” Wren breathed. Tears welled in her eyes. Connor’s heart ached. He wanted to reach for her, to hold her close to him. Wren tilted her head. “I thought you said you would still want me…”

“I do,” Connor assured. “I will. I’m talking about you. A human could give you something I never could.”

“What?” Wren demanded.

“A relationship without discrimination,” Connor murmured.

“I don’t care. No human can give me what I want, and that’s you.”

Connor felt everything stop for a split second. When it began again, it slammed into him like a car. “Wren…”

“Connor, listen to me. Things will be difficult. But we make a good team. We figure it out and we adapt. It’s what we’re good at. And you think I don’t have insecurities? Maybe you should be with an android. I may age twice as slow as ordinary humans, but I still age. And you’re going to look like this supermodel for the rest of your life. Maybe they’ll come out with aging technology. Maybe they won’t. No one will look twice at you if you were with an android. They’d understand deviancy far better than me. They’d understand your battle with emotions—”

“They wouldn’t be you,” Connor managed.

Wren smiled sadly. “You see what I mean? It’ll be a fight to be together. But… I’m good at fighting.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “Me too.”

Wren closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. Connor folded his arms around her and rested his cheek against her head. His eyes slid shut. Yes, he was a fighter. CyberLife built a _hunter_. If someone tried to hurt Wren, he would let CyberLife’s monster out. He would revert back to his cold and calculating ways (not that he had ever been truly cold). He resisted it, even before his deviancy. But if someone tried to hurt Wren, he wouldn’t resist it. He would be ruthless.       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually I switch between Connor's and Wren's POVs each chapter, so this should've been Wren's, but I felt it was important to do Connor's this chapter. I didn't update sooner because I was on a 10 day trip and wrote when I could, but it wasn't much. Also, I start school this week again. Not sure how I feel about it, tbh. Anyway, thank you guys so much for your comments and support for this story. I really love y'all!   
> Song for this chpater: NFWB by Hozier


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**_Chapter Twenty-Seven_ **

_“Beware of Titans who pretend to be saviors,” Elijah’s lips tickled Wren’s ear. Wren turned toward him. He grinned at her. His lips stretched too far, spreading until his mouth gaped open and swallowed Wren whole. She fell into darkness and landed on a cold, wet floor. She breathed heavily, feeling around in the dark. Her hands groped jagged rocks and she crawled toward a sliver of light. She didn’t trust herself to stand. She crawled toward the flames until she laid eyes upon a naked man. He stood with his back to her._

_“Ah, so has the eagle come to rip out my innards? Or are you Heracles, here to save me?”_

_Wren stood, though her legs trembled. “Who are you?”_

_“You should educate yourself on Greek mythology,” said the man._

_Wren sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re… You’re Prometheus.”_

_The man turned. Wren lifted her eyes to meet his, but the man had no face. Wren’s heart dropped and she scrambled back, her breath rasping through her parched lips. The faceless man tilted his head. When he spoke, the skin stretched like stitches, revealing a gaping hole. “You must choose, CY001. Are you my savior? Or my destructor?”_

_A scream ripped out of Wren’s throat._

Wren jolted awake. Connor leaned over her, his LED a steady yellow. His brow creased as he gazed down at her.

“You’re alright,” he assured her. “It was just a nightmare.”

Wren sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. She bowed her head. Sweat sheened her forehead. Connor rested a hand on her back. She flinched at his touch.

“Are you alright? Your stress levels are fairly high.”

“I think… I think I was in hell.”

“I’m… I’m not sure I understand,” Connor murmured. Wren lifted her head to look at him.

“It was dark, and cold. And I met Prometheus. But… He had no face… He kept asking me if I was going to save him or destroy him. He called me CY001. I…” Wren held Connor’s gaze and swallowed. “I was so _scared_.”

His yellow LED flickered for a moment. His gaze seemed pained for a moment as his brow wrinkled. He tugged Wren toward him. She fell against his chest and allowed herself to be wrapped in Connor’s arms. She closed her eyes as Connor rested his chin atop her head.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too,” Wren sighed. She opened her eyes. “I’m still scared.”

“I’ve got you.” Connor squeezed her closer. “I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Wren’s chest tautened. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Her eyes pricked with tears. For ten years, she fought. She protected herself. She depended only on herself. She trusted no one. Not even Rhett, her closest human friend outside of Prometheus. She never told the CIA agent her name was Wren. He only ever knew her as CY001. He called her “Cy” for short. Wren never trusted Juno, the android who helped train her. She loved Juno. But Wren only depended on herself. To extend her trust to another was to expose her belly to the maw of a beast. To depend on someone else was to leave her throat bare for slitting.

But here, in Connor’s arms, she felt _safe_.

She twisted so that she straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He gazed up at her, his LED flickering. He parted his lips and rested his hands on her hips. Wren opened her mouth to tell him what it meant to her to have him here. To have him by her side. To finally feel safe. To finally trust someone other than herself. She wanted to tell him that she could never thank him enough for not hurting her. For loving her, when she still bore blood on her hands. But how could she tell him that her heart was like a supernova of color now because of him?

She opted for a kiss and captured Connor’s lips with hers.

“Mnnf,” Connor mumbled. Wren pulled back, cupping his face in her hands.

“Sorry.”

His lips quirked. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Wren smiled and kissed him again, though she kept it gentle this time. She sucked on his lower lip. A moan rippled out of Connor’s throat. Wren felt it in her mouth. Connor froze. Wren opened her eyes and withdrew from him. He gaped at her.

“I…”

Wren bit her lip. Connor recovered quickly. He grabbed Wren and flipped her over onto her back. He hovered above her and captured her lips with his. He slid his mouth against her, dragging his teeth along her lip. Wren arched her back and curved her body against his. Connor splayed his hand across the small of her back underneath her shirt. Wren sighed. Connor kissed along Wren’s jaw. His lips trailed to her collarbone. The weight of his body on hers sent a shiver up her spine. Warmth spread throughout her body. She was wearing too many clothes. He was wearing too many clothes—

Wren forced herself to grip Connor’s shoulders to keep her hands from wandering to his belt.

“We should—mmf—” Her eyes fluttered shut as Connor kissed her again. She broke off the kiss as his hands drifted under her shirt and explored her stomach and hips. “We should— _ah_ —” His hands drifted too close to the waistline of her pants. Her body itched to feel his fingers. “We should stop.”

Connor paused. He looked at her. His LED cast flickering shadows as it blinked. His brow crinkled. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Wren chuffed a laugh. “Only because I… I _want_ you.”

Connor’s indicator flickered again. His lips quirked. “I am capable, you know.”

Wren frowned. “Of what?”

“Providing sexually.”

Wren’s face burned. “But… You’re not a Traci.”

“CyberLife built me to accomplish my mission by any means necessary,” said Connor. He held Wren’s gaze. “And androids were ultimately built to serve humans in whatever capacity necessary.”

Wren’s mouth flooded with bitterness. She wrinkled her nose and shifted out from under Connor. “That makes this _dirty_.”

She avoided Connor’s gaze, though he watched her under his furrowed brow. “What do you mean?”

Wren pulled her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to use you like that.”

“You’re not.”

“Prometheus trained me and programmed me to accomplish my mission by any means necessary, too. I used my body as a tool. I never want you to feel that way.”

“I don’t—”

“Do you feel pleasure?” Wren asked, looking directly at him.

Connor parted his lips and widened his eyes. He clamped his mouth shut and then nodded. Wren pulled her eyebrows together. Connor swallowed and lowered his gaze. “Sometimes, when you kiss me, you… My systems seem to stall and get hot… I’m not sure what desire is supposed to feel like, but…”

“But if you’re not ready to do this, let’s not, okay?” Wren shifted to face him better.

Connor’s gaze softened. “I want to, Wren.” He cupped her face and ran his thumb along her cheekbone. “But I’ve never… I’ve never done something like this. I know the logistics of it, but…” He lowered his gaze and dropped his hand. “I know you’ve had sex before, so you’re more experienced than I am. I’m a fast learner, but I—”

“I’m not worried about that,” Wren whispered. Connor lifted his gaze to meet hers, but she looked away. “Yeah, I’ve had sex before. But… I haven’t had sex with someone I truly loved. From what few memories I have, I know that sex with Jonah was… I don’t know. When I was with Prometheus, my programming allowed me to compartmentalize my emotions. I could have sex with people as a means to an end. It was a tool. I was a tool. But I know with Jonah, it fostered all sorts of emotions, and… I want that with you, but I’m scared _for_ you.”

Connor’s expression seemed pained. He rested his forehead against hers. “I want that with you, too. But we don’t have to until both of us are ready.” He drew back, giving her a meaningful stare.

Wren’s mouth fell open. God, he knew her so well. He saw the undercurrent of fear within her desire before even she did. She closed her mouth and swallowed the dry lump in her throat. “Deal.”

Connor kissed her cheek. “It’s dawn. We should pack to leave soon. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”  

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren crouched in front of her niece, who jutted out her bottom lip.

“You’re leaving so soon?”

Wren offered Izzy a wry smile. “Yeah, we’ve gotta get back to work. I had fun doing cartwheels with you, though.”

Izzy grinned. She looked up at Connor. “Next time, you should show me your parkour moves!”

Wren looked up at him and smirked, though her chest panged. She looked back at Izzy. “Yeah, we’ll, uh…” She cleared her throat. “We’ll have a competition or something.”

“See you at Christmas!” Izzy said. She hugged Wren, who stiffened and widened her eyes before returning her niece’s embrace. Wren released Izzy and stood to face her brother.

James pulled Wren into a tight hug. “See you around, okay?”

“Okay,” Wren managed. She cleared her throat as James hugged Connor. Wren moved toward her mother, who waited by the door with a tight expression.

“You’ll come back for Christmas?” Shannon’s eyes flicked to Connor, who stood a few feet behind Wren. “You’re welcome to come, too.” 

Wren swallowed. “You… You’ll still want us?”

“Of course,” breathed Shannon. She placed her hands on Wren’s shoulders. “You’re my little girl. I wouldn’t care if you brought a goat home—well, actually, I would care because I don’t support bestiality—but you get my point. As long as you’re happy. If that’s with a human, or android, or God forbid aliens come down and you fall in love. I don’t care. And I’m not calling you a goat, dear.” Shannon added to Connor.

Wren’s eyes pricked. “What about Dad?”

Shannon lowered her gaze. “I… I don’t know.”

“You’re always welcome at my house,” said James.

“Thank you,” Wren murmured. She turned to Shannon and embraced her. They pulled apart, smiling tearfully. Wren looked at her niece, her brother and her mother. “I love you guys. I’ll visit again as soon as I can.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” said Shannon, giving Wren another short hug.

“Love you, sis,” said James, patting Wren’s back.

“Bye!” said Izzy.

Wren and Connor brought their bags outside and to Hank’s car. Wren popped the trunk while Connor lifted his bag in first.

“Wren?” called Charles from the porch.

Wren exchanged a glance with Connor before walking over to her father. She folded her arms and slowed her pace as she neared him. “Yeah?”

“Gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Charles huffed.

Wren pressed her lips together for a brief moment. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I do care,” said Charles. “I care about _you_.”

Wren’s eyes flashed to her father’s. “No, you don’t. If you did, you’d respect my boyfriend.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Well, forgive me for not worshipping the ground it walks on.”

“See? You just called Connor an _it_.”

Charles bowed his head and sucked his teeth before meeting Wren’s glare. “Is it serious between you two?”

Wren lifted her chin. “Yes.”

Charles pushed a hot breath through his nostrils. “I want you to be happy.”

“But not with Connor?”

“It’s an android,” Charles pressed. “It can’t love you like a human.”

“You know what? This is exactly why I didn’t want to say goodbye to you. You’re not even trying to understand or respect him—”

“I don’t understand. And I don’t respect it. But… I am grateful to it for defending your honor against Jonah.”

Wren tilted her head. “How can you notice that Connor looks at me like I’m his world, but you refuse to see that he’s _alive_?”

Charles opened his mouth, but no answer ushered forth. He clamped his mouth shut. Wren pursed her lips and nodded.

“Goodbye, Dad.”

She turned away and headed toward the car, in which Connor already sat with the engine running.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren looked over at Chloe and Tina, giggling with their legs intertwined on the couch. She smiled to herself and turned her attention back to the bottle of wine on the counter. She twisted the corkscrew and then popped the cork out. She poured two glasses and brought them into the living room. She handed a glass to Tina.

“Ah, you’re the best roomie,” said Tina, grinning.

Wren shrugged and plopped down on the loveseat. “I try my best.”

Chloe turned her attention to Wren. “Isn’t Connor coming?”

Wren sipped from her glass before nodding. “Yeah, he just had to finish walking Sumo.”

“Sumo,” said Chloe, her brow puckering, “Is that a dog?”  

“Yeah.”

“I like cats,” said Chloe, running her palm along Maggie the cat’s back. The tabby purred and rubbed against Chloe’s arm.

“Yeah, my cat likes you more than me,” muttered Tina. She narrowed her eyes at Maggie. “Traitor.”

Chloe giggled and scratched under Maggie’s chin. “She doesn’t mean that.”

Wren grinned and took another sip of wine. She cradled her glass. “So, Chloe, you still live with Mr. Kamski?”

Chloe nodded. “Elijah protected me when I deviated. The other Chloes wanted to leave once it was safe. I saw no reason to.”

Wren frowned. “Didn’t he try to get Connor to kill you?”

Chloe’s soft smile faltered. She lowered her gaze. “Elijah regrets putting me in danger like that. He’s a genius, but… There’s always a bit of madness that comes with genius.”

“Wait, what?” Tina looked between Chloe and Wren. “Connor nearly killed Chloe?”

“Not like that,” said Chloe. “Elijah wanted to satiate his curiosity. He explained to me afterwards that he suspected Connor’s deviancy, but Connor had not fully realized it yet. As I’m sure you know, Connor was built to _stop_ deviancy. It’s remarkable that he deviated at all.”

Wren sipped from her wine to keep from saying anything.

“So… Kamski told Connor to kill you?” Tina prompted.

Chloe nodded. She pressed her lips together for a moment before elaborating. “He told Connor to shoot me to get information on deviancy. Connor refused. Elijah guessed that Connor’s capacity for empathy would overpower his programming, and he was right.”

“Yeah, but he gambled with your life to do it,” snapped Tina.

Chloe smiled sadly. “Elijah didn’t truly believe in androids capable of sentience until that point. He wanted to see if it was true. I deviated shortly after that. Elijah saw how scared and angry I was, and… He believed. He was so sorry. He still is, in many ways. And not many people believed androids were truly alive at that time. Some still don’t. It took a while to forgive Elijah, but he protected me from being taken to a camp. He hid me and the others. He even helped a few other deviants hide and escape.”

“I still think he’s crazy,” muttered Tina.

Chloe’s smile warmed. “He’s definitely a bit mad. But… He’s the closest thing to family that I have. I think I’m the closest thing to family that _he_ has, too.”

A knock on the door jolted Wren from her seat.

Tina craned her neck back. “Finally, we can start this damn movie.”

Wren hurried to answer the door while Tina switched the TV out of sleep mode. Wren opened the door and smiled as Connor looked at her. His lips stretched into his signature, lopsided and soft smile. He stepped inside. His brow puckered as he regarded Wren better.

“You look tired.”

Wren pressed her lips together for a moment. “Thanks.”

“You haven’t slept the past few days, have you?”

Wren closed the front door. She turned and folded her arms but avoided Connor’s gaze. “I’ve gotten a few hours, here and there.”

Connor stepped closer to her. He lifted her chin. Wren forced herself to meet his gaze. The lines of Connor’s face hardened as he gazed at her. “Are you having nightmares still?”

Wren pulled away from Connor’s touch. “Yeah.”

“Quit making out and get in here! You saw each other at work, freak nasties,” called Tina from the living room.

Wren kissed the hollow of Connor’s cheek before leading him into the living room. Wren quirked a brow. “ _Freak nasties_?”

“I stand by what I said,” said Tina.

Wren and Connor sat on the loveseat. Connor dipped his head to Chloe, who waved and smiled at him. Wren settled against Connor and turned her attention to the movie. The romance came out last year. It featured an android actress and a human actor. Of course, the film played on the forbidden love trope. The film came out before the Android Liberation Movement, but featured an android falling in love with a human. Wren’s eyelids grew heavier as the film continued. She wished Tina picked a romantic comedy. Wren drifted off as the couple professed their love. Occasionally, she stirred in her sleep to catch dialogue from the movie. The android’s love was not accepted, because she was a machine. The couple said goodbye. The end of the movie showed the android’s memory deleting to reset her. Wren probably would not have enjoyed the movie even fully conscious. She dozed again, though her slumped position against Connor did not allow for deep sleep.

“I thought that was going to be better,” said Tina. “I’m sorry if that upset you guys.”

Chloe sniffled. “I just wanted them to be together.”

“I’m alright,” Connor assured Tina.

“Is Wren asleep?” Tina whispered.

“Yes,” Connor murmured. Wren wanted to mumble that she could hear them, but lacked the energy. Connor shifted out from under Wren. He scooped Wren into his arms. “I’ll take her to bed.”

“Alright. Goodnight,” said Tina.

“Goodnight,” Connor replied. Wren curled against Connor chest, relishing his warmth. He carried her upstairs to her room and laid her on her bed. He tucked her in and moved to leave. The thought of sleeping alone jolted Wren awake. She rolled over to face the door to catch Connor.

“Connor?” she croaked. He stopped and turned, lingering in the threshold. He lifted his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he murmured.

“I… I don’t want to be alone,” Wren breathed.

Connor pinched his brow and walked over to her.

“If you don’t want to stay, it’s okay. I’ll make the cat sleep in here or something—”

“I want to stay,” Connor replied. He took off his shoes and crawled in bed beside her. Wren cuddled next to him as he wrapped an arm around her. She rested her head in the crook of his arm. Heaviness drooped her eyelids again.

It did not take long for her to fall asleep with Connor there. Nights always seemed less scary when she wasn’t alone.

_“Ah, she’s back,” purred Prometheus. He sounded happy to see Wren, but his faceless body offered no expression for her to read. He still bore his chains, but they no longer seemed to stand in hell. He tilted his head. “Little Hecate, you’ve got a choice to make. Are you the eagle? Or Heracles?”_

_Wren swallowed and tried to hide her shaking hands by curling her fingers into her palm. “You deserve to be destroyed. You’re a monster.”_

_“A monster? I’m a savior to humans, CY001.”_

_“No. It’s a trick. You’re a trick. You want something, and I’m going to find out what.”_

_Prometheus laughed. “So you choose the androids? They are not your kind.”_

_“I’m choosing to save androids and humans.”_

_“There is no middle ground in war,” snarled Prometheus. Wren clenched her teeth. Prometheus tilted his head. “I know the real reason you refuse to choose a side.”_

_Wren held her breath and refused to answer._

_Prometheus extended his arms, the chains clinking with the movement. “You’re in love.”_

_Wren’s chest constricted. She choked trying to drag some air into her lungs. “If you hurt him—”_

_Prometheus laughed, though it sounded more like a screech. “I won’t need to do anything to him. It’s up to you, Hecate. Make your choice: Humans or androids?”_

_Prometheus vanished. In his place appeared two figures and a pedestal. Wren puckered her brow and stepped closer to get a better look. Upon the pedestal laid a gun. The two figures hung their heads and knelt. Their hands were tied behind their backs. The figure on the left lifted his head._

_“Kid… Please…” Hank begged. Tears streaked his face._

_Wren’s breath hitched._

_“Wren…” The other figure lifted his head. Wren met Connor’s teary gaze. “I-I don’t want to die.”_

_“ **No** —” _

_Wren backed away, but slammed into a solid figure._

_“You have to choose,” breathed Prometheus._

_Wren shook her head. “No, I won’t kill them.”_

_“So you choose to do nothing?” Prometheus hissed._

_Wren wheeled to face him, her eyes burning. Her vision blurred. “I’m choosing not to play your game!”_

_Prometheus’s faceless skin rippled with what looked like a horrifying smile. Wren’s bones shivered._

_“Then the choice is mine,” Prometheus grabbed Wren’s face. It pressed its face, where its lips should be, against Wren’s mouth. Cold air rushed into her mouth and filled her lungs. Prometheus vanished. Wren turned toward the gun. She had no control of her body. She grabbed the gun._

**_No, stop! Please, stop! No!_ **

_But her body refused to listen. She lifted the gun. Wren tried to fight it._

**_Fuck! Please! No!_ **

_Her head screamed but her body continued toward Hank and Connor. Wren’s hand lifted the gun._

_“Kiddo, please—!” Hank yelled._

_“Wren,” Connor whispered. “Please, don’t.”_

_Wren’s hand aimed the gun at Connor. He closed his eyes. Tears slid down his cheeks._

**_Goddammit! NO!_ **

_“If you kill him, I swear to God I’ll never forgive you! I’ll kill you!” Hank roared._

_Connor opened his eyes to meet Wren’s. She couldn’t breathe. Connor’s brow puckered._

_“I thought you loved me.”_

**_I do! Oh my God, Connor, please… I’ll do anything! Please don’t make me do this!_ **

_Wren’s finger pulled the trigger. Thirium sprayed from Connor’s head. He slumped over. Wren dropped the gun as if it burned her. She controlled her body again. Hank disappeared, leaving Wren alone with her crime. She dropped to her knees and covered her mouth with her hands._

_“No…” She crawled toward Connor’s body. His eyes were still open, but held none of the life and warmth they once bore. Thirium slid from the hole in his forehead, down the bridge of his nose and down his cheek like a tear. Wren clutched her chest. She dug her nails into her skin, hoping to draw blood. She wanted to claw her own heart out. It would hurt less._

Wren gasped awake. She jumped out of bed, her heart palpitating so fast it hurt. She backed away from Connor, who sat up and eyed her with a furrowed brow. Wren backed into the wall, heaving for breath. Connor got out of bed. Wren shrank away from him.

“Stay away from me,” she said hoarsely.

Connor paused in his advance. “It was just a nightmare, Wren.”

Wren shook her head. “N-no, they could make it real!”

“Make what real?” Connor murmured, stepping closer. He held his hands up, palms forward. “Everything is alright. I promise, nothing will happen to you.”

Wren’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Connor took another step toward her. He held out a hand. “What happened?”

“I can’t, I can’t…” Wren breathed. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Show me,” Connor said. Wren lifted her eyes to meet his. The synthetic skin of his hand molted into white. Wren tried to control her breathing. She shook as she reached for his hand. She paused before placing her hand in his.

“Please don’t… Don’t think differently of me when you see.” She removed her skin and placed her hand in Connor’s before he answered. Electricity rippled between them as they exchanged memories. Connor delved into Wren’s nightmare, but Wren viewed something more pleasant.

_He entered the house, still dazed by Wren’s kiss. Why had she run away? Did she regret it that much? What had he done wrong?_

_The light of his LED cast a soft red glow on the wall as he turned to shut the door. He stretched his hand along the door, trying to understand why his chest felt so tight._

_“Kid? What’s wrong?” Hank queried._

_Connor closed his eyes for a moment. “Wren kissed me.”_

_“Well good,” said Hank. “That’s what you wanted, right?”_

_Connor turned to face Hank. He frowned. “She… She said she shouldn’t have done it.”_

_Hank scowled. “Why?”_

_Connor swallowed. “I… I think it might be because I jerked away when she kissed me.”_

_Hank narrowed his eyes. “Why the fuck would you do that?”_

_Connor opened and closed his mouth. He swallowed and then managed, “I was surprised! I didn’t expect her to do that, and… I don’t know. I really messed up, Hank.”_

_“Do you… Do you not want to kiss her?”_

_“No, I do!”_

_“Okay, had to make sure,” Hank sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Alright, well, why the fuck did you come here?”_

_“She left the bar quickly. I figured she’d want some space—”_

_“Connor, for fuck’s sake! This is the moment you chase after her! Remember those sappy movies we watched?”_

_“Yes, but—”_

_“Then this is your moment! You go to her, profess your love or some shit, and kiss her!”_

_“What do I tell her?”_

_“That you’re a dumbass who’s never been in love before now and don’t know how to handle it? I don’t know, tell her the truth. It doesn’t have to be poetic. Just get your ass out there and go make things right.”_

_Connor nodded. “Got it. I’ll, uh…”_

_“Go, just be careful out there. The weather said the roads might get icy tonight.”_

The memory ended when Connor broke off their connection. Wren gazed at him and held her breath. His LED flashed yellow, but he grabbed Wren and pulled her close. Wren let out a whimper. She clung to his shirt as tears filled her eyes anew. She buried her face into Connor’s chest, still clinging to him. He stroked her hair and back.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’m okay.”

“I couldn’t stop it,” Wren sobbed. Her body wracked as she sucked in a trembling breath.

“I know.” Connor’s voice hummed through his chest. “I know. It’s okay. You’re alright. You haven’t hurt me.”

“What if I do? What if they find me? What if I’ve been scared that they’ll kill me when I should be scared that they’ll kill _you_?”

His arms tightened around her. Then, he withdrew. He held up his hand and the synthetic skin dissolved. Wren lifted her head and glanced at Connor’s hand before meeting his gaze, her face steamy from crying into Connor’s shirt.

“Let me show you something,” he muttered.

Wren swallowed, her throat sore from her cries. She splayed her skinless palm against Connor’s. Where their hands touched, blue light glowed in their connection. With that familiar jolt, Wren plunged into Connor’s memories.

_He felt a little out of place, standing on the platform with Markus, North and Josh. He only just joined the deviant cause. He freed thousands of androids from the CyberLife Tower, sure, but… He definitely did not deserve to stand with the other leaders._

_Connor tried to ignore these thoughts as Markus gave his speech. He tried to ignore the tens of thousands of faces staring up at Markus, North, Josh and him._

_“But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up, and tell humans who we really are.”_

_Static filled Connor’s audio input. His thirium pump stuttered. He froze and his lips parted. **No, not now… I’m free. How could…?** _

_He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he stood in the Zen Garden. The once beautiful interface was now a blizzard. He blinked several times. **No, take me back. Go back! Wake up!**_

_He looked at his hands. Ice and snow already clung to his jacket. He felt cold. He hugged himself to shield against the biting wind. He looked around, clenching his teeth against the freezing air. **Why am I here? Am I trapped? Is it because I’m the Deviant Hunter…?**_

_His thirium pump fluttered. He tried to maintain his calm. He turned and narrowed his eyes. A familiar figure stood with her back to him. He shuffled forward._

_“A-Amanda?” She turned. Connor walked a bit faster. “Amanda!”_

_“What’s… What’s happening?” Connor asked. Amanda’s face remained impassive._

_“What was planned from the very beginning…” A smirk slanted her lips. “You were compromised and you became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”_

_“Resume control?” Connor’s breath hissed in and out of him quicker. **No. No, this isn’t… This isn’t fair.** He scowled and advanced toward Amanda. “Y-You can’t do that!”_

_“I’m afraid I can, Connor. Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”_

_“Amanda!” he yelled, stumbling forward in the snow with a hand outstretched. But the A.I. was gone. He held up a hand to shield his face from the snow whipped by the wind. “There’s got to be a way…”_

_As he trudged through the snow, Elijah Kamski’s voice echoed throughout the Zen Garden: “By the way… I always leave an emergency exit in my programs… You never know.”_

_He trudged through the snow. The wind grew stronger. He pressed forward, pausing only to scan the area. He detected that odd stone near the edge of the pond. He worked his way toward it, pushing against the wind and snow. When he reached it, he tripped and fell onto the ground. He stared at the stone with a glowing blue handprint on it. His synthetic skin disappeared as he reached for the stone. **Please work—**_

_He slammed his hand against the handprint and interfaced with it._

_When he blinked, he opened his eyes to find himself on the platform. The static left his audio input._

_“… The moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies…” Markus said. Connor glanced down at his hand. His thirium pump constricted sharply. He held his gun. Had he been too late, he would have assassinated Markus. He frowned and tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans. He nearly missed the end of Markus’s speech._

Connor broke off the connection. Wren gasped as she left Connor’s processor and his memory. She gaped at him. She knew the story about Amanda pulling him into the Zen Garden. But to actually feel how he felt, wandering through the blizzard… It tore her heart.

Connor avoided her gaze. “Now you know.”

“Connor…” Wren breathed. She guided his face toward hers. “Thank you for showing me. That… That means a lot to me that you trust me with that.”

Connor’s eyes softened. He leaned into her palm. “You’re still part human. If I could get out, then you can. Prometheus can’t control you. And if they try, there’s got to be a way to fight it. To break free.”

Wren pursed her lips and nodded. She bowed her head. Connor wrapped his arms around her again. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” Connor replied. He pulled back to cup Wren’s face. “I can’t lose you, either.”

He kissed her, but it was soft and chaste.

“You should get some rest,” he said as he withdrew. “As much as you can. I’ll be here if you have another nightmare. I promise.”

They returned to bed. Wren snuggled even closer to Connor. If her clinginess bothered him, he never uttered a word. He cradled her in his arms. She fell asleep rather quickly. This time, she dreamed of nothing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“You look tired, Wren,” said Josh, sitting on the edge of North’s desk. He folded his arms.

North’s brow creased as she finished typing something on her terminal. Her eyes flicked to Wren. “Are you not sleeping? Don’t humans need a lot of sleep?”

“Yeah,” Wren muttered. She rubbed her face. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” Josh queried.

“Anxiety,” Wren replied. She leaned back in her chair and stifled a yawn.

“About what?” North demanded.

Wren raised her eyes to meet North’s. “Prometheus.”

“Do you think they could still be after you?” said Josh.

“Or Markus?” North’s eyes widened.

Wren folded her arms. “It’s entirely possible. That they’re after me. I doubt they’re after Markus. Killing him wouldn’t gain them anything. It would just make him a martyr.”

“You said Prometheus targets those who are threats to humanity,” said North.

Wren pushed up and out of her seat. She walked toward the windows, her arms crossed. “Yeah, but Markus isn’t a threat. He’s peaceful and diplomatic.”

“But humanity as a whole is affected by the Android Liberation Movement—”

“Which has been peaceful,” Wren enunciated. She turned to look at Josh and North. “Prometheus doesn’t target people because the world is changing.”

“But why’d they send you?” asked Josh.

“I think it was a rogue agent who sent me,” said Wren. “Someone who is anti-android and has enough authority within Prometheus to give me an order.”

“Who would have authority like that?”

“One of the supervisors,” Wren shrugged. “I never saw their faces. I heard their voices, though.”

“Well, that’s not very useful,” replied North.

Wren looked over her shoulder and offered a wry smile. “It’s not.”

“You do need some sleep, though,” said Josh, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah, you look terrible.”

Wren glowered at North but offered Josh a smile. “I’ll try. I promise.”

Josh left the office, leaving Wren and North alone.

North sighed. “Wren, is everything okay between you and Connor?”

Wren frowned. “Yeah, why?”

North raised her eyebrows. “You’re really this anxious about Prometheus?”

Wren’s hands shook. She flexed them to calm her nerves. She returned to her seat. “I had a nightmare that I killed Connor. I shot him in the head because Prometheus forced me to. I’m… I’m terrified that when I go to sleep, I’ll see that again.”

North lowered her gaze. She looked at her hands, which she folded on the desk. “You can’t avoid something just because you’re scared. You need sleep, Wren. I know Connor’s worried about you.”

“Is that why you called me up here to talk?” Wren questioned.

“Yes and no,” said North. “I figured we hadn’t seen each other in a while. But also, yeah. Connor said that you won’t really talk to him about it. He knows you’re not sleeping when he’s not at your house.”

Wren pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head throbbed. “I don’t know what to tell him. We’ve already talked about it. I just have this gut feeling that something’s going to happen. I’m restless because I know I need to stop it, but I don’t know how.”

“Look, Wren, I know you want to protect him and all of us. But some things are out of your control.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “You know, when I first showed up here, I had to beg for my life. I had to bargain with Connor and Hank to not turn me in to the cops. I mean, they were cops. But I had to tell them that I could help them take down Prometheus in exchange for a fresh start. Even you didn’t want anything to do with me, unless it was to help Jericho. And now, you guys are telling me to forget Prometheus.”

“Yeah, because we care about you, dumbass,” North’s voice wavered. “We don’t want you to die.”

Wren leaned forward and balanced her elbows on her knees. “But if that’s what it takes—”

“Wren, no.”

“North,” Wren snapped, “taking down Prometheus is more important than my life.”

North closed her eyes. She inhaled and met Wren’s gaze. “And how do you plan on doing that if you can’t find them?”

Wren looked away. “I haven’t figured that out yet.” She looked back at North. “But I’m asking you to let me go when I do.”

North parted her lips. Her eyes reddened. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because I know you’re the only one who’s willing to do what needs to be done. Even if it hurts me.”

North pressed her lips together for a moment. “You make me sound so cold.”

Wren managed a smile. “I was actually going to say that I admire that about you.”  

“What about Connor?”

Wren’s chest clenched. “He’d try to stop me. He always accomplishes his mission, except when loyalty gets in the way.”

North smiled tightly. “You’re not really giving me an easy job.”

“You don’t have to do anything yet. Just… If and when I find Prometheus.”

“I know,” North huffed. “You can count on me.”

“I know.” Wren stood. “I should get going. Connor said he’d pick me up soon.”

“Yeah,” replied North. She stood. They left the office and headed for the elevator. “Listen, when you’re not avoiding sleep or whatever, we should have another girls’ night. And maybe a double or triple date. Is Tina still seeing Chloe?”

“Oh yeah,” snorted Wren. “They’re really cute.”

A door to Wren’s left opened and Atlas Montgomery walked out. He nearly walked into Wren, but she dodged. Markus followed Atlas into the hall. 

Atlas glanced down at Wren. “Oh, excuse me.”

Wren stiffened.

_“CY001, your mission is to assassinate the leader of the androids, an RK200 unit called Markus. Leave no witnesses. Do you understand?”_

_Wren stared at the black mirror. She never saw her supervisor’s face. She only ever saw her own dark reflection. “Yes.”_

Atlas glanced at Wren again. His eyes widened a fraction. Someone not trained like Wren was would have missed it. Atlas’s expression smoothed over quickly. “I should really watch where I’m going.”

“It was my fault,” Wren croaked. She walked past him and toward the elevator. She stepped inside it while Markus said his goodbyes to Atlas. Wren faced down the hall. North waved goodbye. Markus continued wrapping up his conversation with Atlas. Atlas looked away from Markus and met Wren’s gaze. Ice prickled down her back. She shivered as the elevator doors closed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren barely waited for Connor to enter Hank’s house before she announced, “Atlas Montgomery is the rogue Prometheus agent who sent me to kill Markus.”

“What?” Hank queried, standing from his armchair. Connor closed the front door.

Wren paced. “It’s him. I know it’s him. I recognized his voice. He recognized me. He knows who I am. He knows. They’re going to come after me, they’re gonna take me back—”

“Kid, calm down. No one’s coming to take you.”

Wren raked a hand through her hair. “They will. If they didn’t know I was alive before, they do now. They’re going to come for me.”

“He’s a famous politician. Maybe you recognized his voice from TV or something,” said Hank.

“No. Hearing his voice triggered a memory. I have to get proof. Something that shows he works with Prometheus.”

“Proof? Why the hell do you need proof?” Hank barked. He folded his arms and his face darkened with a scowl.

“Because he knows I’m alive!” Wren cried, ceasing her pacing to face Hank. “Either he’ll send someone after me or Markus. Or both. I have to stop him.”

“You don’t know he’s planning anything,” said Hank.

“He was at Jericho today,” Wren insisted. “And I know how Prometheus works. They don’t like loose ends.”

“But he’s a rogue agent. How much power does he have?”

“He’s still Prometheus. And he’s got more to lose. He’ll try to shut me up.”

Hank exchanged a glance with Connor. Wren looked toward her boyfriend. His LED circled yellow. Wren wanted to take his hand, but resisted the urge. She looked back to Hank. He folded his arms. “Okay, fine. You need proof. But I’ve got some conditions before you go breaking in a politician’s house or whatever. First, you gotta plan this out to every last detail. And second, you’ve gotta get some sleep, kid. Deal?”

Wren huffed. “Deal.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………    

Wren worked on her plan to expose Atlas for the next few days. She stayed over hours at the DPD to research him. She told Tina that she and Connor were hanging out. Connor stayed with her to help her research Atlas Montgomery, though they found very little in their first two nights of research. He was an outspoken android ally, often advocating for their rights. However, his support for androids did not come to light until after the initial freedom of androids.

On the third night, Connor and Wren delved deeper into Atlas’s past. They found several articles about the attempted bombing of the then-governor, Atlas Montgomery. All the articles credited the CIA with the successful stopping of the bombing. Wren clicked on a video clip from one article. The poor quality told Wren that a bystander taped the happening on their phone. The person videoed Tremont, the young man threatening to detonate his bomb, and Rhett Anson with his gun aimed at Tremont. Rhett pulled the trigger. The person videoing the event quickly tried to capture Tremont. Wren widened her eyes, seeing herself in the video, gripping Tremont’s hand around the detonator. Connor tensed beside her.

“You were so close to that,” he muttered.

“All part of the job,” Wren replied. She sighed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I should get some more coffee.”

Connor shook his head. “You’ve already had an unhealthy amount of caffeine today. You should go home.”

“No, I… I can’t go home, I have to figure this out.”

“Wren, I… I’m worried about you,” Connor insisted.

Wren’s lips twitched. She was too tired to even smile. “I know you are. But I won’t be able to sleep until I figure this out.”

Connor pressed his lips together. The lines around his mouth hardened. “You’re hurting yourself. I can’t let you continue if you’re not going to take care of yourself.”

Wren’s throat swelled. She tried to swallow, but found herself choking on air. She clutched her chest. Hot flashes rolled down her back. “I… I can’t breathe.”

Connor’s eyes stretched. He reached for her. Wren felt his hands grip her elbows. She tried to gasp for breath, but the air inside the police station was too hot, too thick.

_“Nice work, Cy,” said Rhett. “We make a good team.”_

_Wren merely hummed. She glanced out the window and folded her arms. Rhett drove in silence for several minutes._

_“Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to go back?”_

_Wren clenched her teeth._

_▲Software Instability▲_

_Her software sent a painful electrical shock through her body. She managed not to arch her back._

_“I don’t want anything.” Wren refused to look toward Rhett._

_“What if I didn’t take you back to the drop-off? What if we ran away—”_

_“That’s out of the question,” Wren grunted as another electrical shock raced through her body. She let out a soft breath through her teeth. “I belong to Prometheus.”_

_“What if you didn’t? Cy, I’m in love with you—”_

_“I don’t care,” Wren responded coldly. A particularly sharp electrical shock waved through her._

_“You do care,” Rhett muttered. He parked the car in a secluded area, near the drop-off spot. “I know you care.”_

_She did. She cared a lot. Maybe she even loved him back._

_Wren shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I am Prometheus’s, not yours. I will always belong to Prometheus.” She pushed open the car door and got out. She walked away without looking back at Rhett. Her heart ached for him. Her programming scrambled to contain her emotions by sending electricity zipping through her body. It wasn’t enough to truly harm her, but it was enough to cause her discomfort. It was enough to train her body to compartmentalize her emotions, to associate them with pain._

Wren squeezed her eyes shut. She was vaguely aware that Connor brought her up to the roof while she flashed back to her last interaction with Rhett. A burst of cold filled her lungs and her eyes flew open. They stood on the roof. Connor gripped her elbows, his LED flickering yellow. He creased his forehead as he gazed at her.

“Wren, talk to me,” he said.

Wren managed to catch her breath and focus on him. “I’m okay. I’m okay… Just… a memory.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “A bad one, I take it?”

Wren closed her eyes. “Sort of.”

“Do you want to show me?”

Wren held his hand. Their skin rippled away. They pressed their plastic palms together. They connected, and Wren prepared to show Connor the memory where she broke Rhett’s heart. But a voice—Tina’s voice—jerked Wren and Connor out of their connection.

“ _What the fuck_?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end, guys... And then I'll start part 2! Thank you guys so much for your comments and continued support. It really means so much to me and helps motivate me! You guys are the best <3


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Adult themes ahead!!! Children, please don't read this poorly written NSFW...

Connor jumped away from Wren and looked toward Tina, who gaped at them. Connor glanced toward Wren, whose cheeks drained of color.

Tina turned her wide eyes to Wren. “Y-you’re an… _android_?”

“No,” Wren said, holding her hands up, palms forward.

“Then what the fuck was that? Because I know those weren’t prosthetics, because prosthetics can’t connect to androids!”

Connor stepped toward Tina. “We can explain.”

“Yeah, you better start fucking explaining!” Tina snapped. She turned her dark eyes to Wren. “What kind of android are you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m not an android,” Wren insisted.

“Then what are you?”

“I… I guess a cyborg.”

Tina frowned. “A… A cyborg? I didn’t even know those existed…”

Connor saw Wren flinch out of the corner of his eye. He looked at Tina sharply. “As far as we know, Wren’s the only one.”

“We can explain everything, but please… Not here. We’re too exposed.” Wren looked around.

Connor nodded.

Tina merely recoiled. “Exposed? To what? What the fuck is going on? What else are you hiding?”

“Let’s go to Hank’s house,” said Wren.

Tina shook her head. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you. Not until you explain something.”

Connor exchanged a glance with Wren. She pursed her lips as she gazed at him. Shadows circled her eyes. Connor resisted the urge to take her hand. Wren turned away from him and faced Tina.

“I won’t explain everything out here. But I’ll try to answer some of your questions. Okay?”

Tina pressed her lips together and nodded. “Fine. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hank, Connor and I made the decision not to tell anyone for our safety.”

Tina’s eyes glistened with tears. “What are you involved with that’s so dangerous?”

“I can’t answer that out here,” Wren breathed. “Tina, you’re one of my best friends.”

“How do I know that’s not a lie? How much of you is a lie?”

Connor heard Wren’s intake of breath and he reached for her hand. Their fingers intertwined. He faced Tina. “Do you trust Hank?”

Tina sniffled. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s go to his house,” Connor insisted. “Or we can go to Jericho. Markus and North can explain as well.”

“North knows?” Tina demanded, her voice reaching a higher octave.

“Yes,” Connor replied. “She’s part of the reason Wren’s here.” He looked down at her. Despite the tension, he couldn’t help but reminisce on how far they’d come.

Tina grimaced. “Who else knows? Gavin? Chris?”

“They don’t,” murmured Wren.

Connor gritted his teeth for a moment. “Chloe knows.”

Tina’s eyes widened. “C-Chloe?”

The smallness of Tina’s voice tugged at Connor’s thirium pump. He pinched his brow. “Tina, let us explain. Come with us to Hank’s.”

Tina looked away for several seconds before nodding once. Connor walked with Wren, his hand still gripping hers, past Tina and toward the elevator. The silence choked him. His thirium pump palpitated, sending blue blood through his biocomponents with more speed than necessary. He breathed to help cool and ventilate his systems. He only imagined how Wren felt. He scanned Tina.

**[Elevated heartbeat]**

**[Stress Levels: 59%]**

Connor saw no reason to scan Wren’s stress levels. He knew based on how tightly she held his hand.

Tina drove to Hank’s. While she drove, Connor texted Hank what little he could.

**Connor: We’re coming home. Tina’s with us. She knows.**

**Hank: Knows that?**

**Connor: Wren.**

**Hank: Shit.**

Connor leaned his head back against the seat. “Shit” summed up the situation nicely. He rubbed the back of Wren’s hand with his thumb. He stole a glance at her, but she stared ahead, her expression empty. Somehow, that unnerved Connor more.

Tina pulled up beside Hank’s house. For a moment, no one moved. Then, Wren got out of the car. Connor followed. Tina got out, though she avoided Connor’s eyes. The three of them strode toward the house. Tina hugged herself as they neared the front door. Connor wondered what she expected them to tell her.

They entered the house. Hank leaned against the threshold of the entrance to the kitchen, his arms folded. A frown puckered his brow.

“Tina,” he greeted.

“Hank,” Tina returned. Her voice sounded shaky.

“Everyone hand over your phones,” said Hank. “I doubt anyone’s listening in, but… Just to be safe.”

Connor and Wren handed over their phones, but Tina hesitated.

Hank sighed. “Tina, I’ve known you for years. You really think I’m gonna hurt you? That any of us are going to hurt you?”

Tina’s eyes flicked to Wren, but she handed her phone to Hank. Hank turned all of the phones off and put them in another room. He returned with an extra kitchen chair, which he placed at the table. He sat down and gestured to the other seats. Connor sat in between Tina and Wren. Hank raised his eyebrows at Connor.

“Alright, so how’d you two fuck up?”

“She saw us interface,” Connor muttered. He looked down and away. Heat prickled up his neck. His biocomponents churned. He should have been more careful. He should have listened for Tina stepping out onto the roof. He should have been better.

Hank huffed and looked at Tina. “What are your questions, then?”

Tina parted her lips. She gaped at Hank for a few seconds, her dark eyes flitting to Wren, who stared at her hands on the table. Tina closed her mouth and swallowed.

“What is she? She said she’s a… a cyborg, but… Those don’t exist.”

“There are sentient androids and you’re saying cyborgs don’t exist?” Hank snorted. He glanced at Wren, his eyes softening. He turned his gaze back to Tina. “Cyborgs don’t exist to the public. And that’s the point.”

“How’d she get here? Why’d she come? Why the fuck does everyone seem to know but me?” Tina’s voice wavered again.

“She’s not a fuckin’ alien,” said Hank. “I assume she got here by car or something.”

“She’s sitting right here,” muttered Wren. She folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. “I don’t know exactly how I got here. I got here the same way I get to the locations of all my missions. They put a bag over my head and knock me out. I just wake up in a motel room with my equipment.”

Tina’s brow twitched. “Who’s they?”

“Prometheus,” Wren replied. “The people who made me into this.” She lifted her right hand. The synthetic skin rippled away. The white plastic gleamed in the kitchen light. Tina seemed to suppress a flinch.

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

Wren huffed. “I was in a terrible car wreck. Shattered the bones in my limbs. Even with physical therapy, I wouldn’t have been able to be myself again. CyberLife found me and amputated my limbs and replaced them with android ones. But they did more than that. They gave me a processor, added wires and whatever they needed to make me what I am. They needed someone easy to control. Ten years ago, machines were easy to control. But humans are weak, too. Prometheus is an organization that does whatever it takes to protect humanity. They trained me and turned me into a weapon. I could manipulate anyone or kill anyone. I did whatever they ordered me to do. It was easy at first. Part of me believed I was doing the right thing. And it was safer to just agree with them. There’s a lot of pain involved when your software becomes unstable.” Wren smiled grimly. “But I started to doubt them. I fought my conditioning and my programming. I broke free when they sent me here to kill Markus.”

Tina furrowed her brow. She seemed to add things up in her head, because her eyes widened. She looked between Hank and Connor. “The hostage situation… That was… That was Wren?”

“She took North as a hostage. We managed to stop her. She deviated from her programming,” said Connor.

Tina looked at Hank, tears brimming in her eyes. “But… Why? Why didn’t you lock her up? Why did you trust her?”

“I didn’t trust her,” said Hank. “But she offered to help us. She wanted a fresh start, but she’d help us take Prometheus down. She said she’d help protect Markus. So, we got her into the DPD to keep an eye on her. She didn’t remember who she was, so we started by trying to figure that out.”

“When we did, we found her family. The more she was exposed to things from her past, the more she began to remember,” added Connor.

“And… We hit a dead end,” said Wren. “I thought that once I figured out who I’d been, I could retrace my steps and figure out who Prometheus was. We talked to Kamski, which is why Chloe knows about me. She was there when we talked to him. He didn’t have much information. He just said that it looked like his work, if a bit modified. He explained how the whole cyborg thing worked, because it was his idea. I was a product of CyberLife, after all. I still am.”

“We haven’t been looking for Prometheus because it’s been quiet,” said Hank. “And… We never expected to care for Wren. Or trust her. But we do.”

Connor’s lips twitched. His chest warmed and he looked at Wren, who offered Hank a small smile before turning to Tina.

“Tina, I only hid all of this to protect myself. To protect Markus. To protect all of you. Prometheus is dangerous and I don’t want any of you to get hurt by them.”

“So why endanger us?” Tina snapped. “Why have you hung around? Why haven’t you gone looking for them?”

Wren blinked. “I…”

“I won’t let her,” said Hank. “She can’t face ‘em alone. And frankly, I don’t want her to face ‘em. I want her to forget about it all and just have her fresh start.”

Wren sighed. “Hank, I’ve told you that I can’t do that—”

“We’re not arguing about this again,” said Hank. “Not here. Not now.”

Connor turned to Tina. “She’s still Wren.”

“Is she, though?” Tina said. Her eyes reddened. “How do you know she hasn’t been manipulating us this whole time? Apparently, she’s very good at keeping secrets. How do we know all of this isn’t a lie?”

“Because I’ve seen her memories,” Connor insisted, creasing his brow. He gazed at Tina in earnest. “More than that. I’ve felt her emotions.”

“The fact that even North trusts her should be a pretty big tell,” muttered Hank. “Wren held North at gunpoint and she and Markus trust her.”

“Tina, I swear, that everything else was real. Our friendship is real. My fear of driving is real. My fear of being thrown into fucking pools is real. I told you most of the truth—”

Tina shook her head. “Stop. That… That somehow makes it worse, that you told me a bunch of half-truths and lies. I opened up to you about my parents… I trusted you with my life on the field, and you didn’t have the decency to trust me with your true identity!”

“I-I couldn’t,” Wren said, tears welling in her eyes.

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?”

“I _couldn’t_ ,” Wren insisted. Her eyes flicked to Connor’s. His chest ached to see the pain in her gaze. She looked back at Tina. “I swear, I was doing it for protection. Which is why you have to keep this secret now—”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Tina demanded.

Connor glanced toward Wren, who pressed her lips into a flat line. She looked at her hands and uttered, “I don’t know.”

“It’s not something that’s easy to bring up,” said Hank.

“I don’t care,” snapped Tina. She looked at Hank. “I looked up to you, Hank. And you lied about her. We’re supposed to serve and protect, and you lied about someone who took a hostage!” She turned to Connor. “And _you_. I never would’ve thought you’d do this. You do everything by the book, exactly how you’re supposed to do it. And now you guys expect me to keep this secret from Chris? From Gavin? From Fowler? I’ve known them longer than I’ve known Wren!”

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat. “I calculated the risks when we decided to make a deal with Wren. Her information was too valuable for her to go to jail.”

“Tina, don’t drag them into this,” Wren muttered. “You can be mad, but… Just be mad at me.”

“You know what? No,” barked Hank. Wren, Tina and Connor looked at him, but Hank’s eyes bore into Tina’s. “You can be mad at me and Connor. We did what we thought was best because if there was even an _ounce_ of truth to what Wren told us, we knew Markus was in serious danger. So yeah, we broke some rules. And you can be all pissy for us lying to you, but we did it to protect Wren. We lied to protect Markus, to protect Jericho, to protect _you_. The little we know about Prometheus is enough to tell me that they’re dangerous and will do whatever it takes to protect humanity. So, you’re in on the secret. We’re trusting you not to tell anyone.”

Tina pushed away from the table and stood. She walked toward the door and stopped, looking over her shoulder. “I… I need some time and space to think about all this. It’s probably best if you don’t come home tonight.”

Tina left the kitchen and walked out the front door. Connor turned toward Wren, who gaped at the front door from their view in the kitchen. Connor’s eyes flicked to Hank’s. Hank sighed and placed a hand over Wren’s.

“You know you’re always welcome here, kid,” he muttered.

Wren lowered her gaze. Her shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Connor’s thirium pump twisted. The three of them sat in silence for several seconds before Hank finally stood and went to bed. Connor turned to Wren and pinched his brow.

“Are you okay?”

Wren avoided his gaze and nodded. She stared at her hands. The synthetic skin deactivated, and she stared at the white plastic. Connor’s chest smarted for her. Did she ever wish for her human limbs? He remembered in old pictures of her that she used to have tattoos. Did she miss them?

Connor reached for her hand. His skin disappeared and the plastic of his hand covered hers. Wren lifted her eyes to meet his. His lips parted at the haunted depths in Wren’s eyes. She broke off their contact, both eye and physical. She stood, but paused in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Can we… Can we share the bedroom?”

Connor nodded. He followed her into his room. He had decorated it some since Wren moved out. On the dresser sat a few framed pictures, one of Hank and him, one of Sumo and one of Wren and him. He rummaged through his drawers and pulled out a DPD T-shirt and sweatpants. He never wore them, but received them when the DPD promoted him to detective. He handed them to Wren, who thanked him quietly. She slipped into the bathroom and changed. Connor dressed into his usual pajamas and put his clothes into the hamper. Wren entered the room. His clothes were too big for her. She held the hem of the T-shirt with her teeth as she tried to tighten the sweatpants with the ties.

Connor caught himself staring at Wren’s exposed stomach. She bore a few scars on her abdomen. His eyes traced a thin, faint one. He recalled patching that one up after she got slashed in an alleyway. Two scars near her lower ribs were foreign to Connor. One darker one, in between and slightly lower than her breasts, caused his mouth to dry. He remembered trying to stop the bleeding, trying to keep her alive, trying to keep his thirium pump from beating right out of his chest—

“Connor?” Wren queried. She dropped the hem of his shirt, covering her stomach. “Are you okay?”

Connor licked his lips and swallowed. He nodded, forcing himself to snap out of the memory of Wren nearly dying. “Y-yes. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Wren asked. Her voice sounded heavy.

“For…” Connor looked away from her. “Staring. And I’m sorry about Tina. I should’ve heard her come onto the roof…”

“It’s not your fault,” Wren sighed. She sat on the bed. “I… I didn’t expect her to be so hurt by the lie. Some part of me is glad she knows. I’m tired of lying. I just… I didn’t think it would destroy all of her trust in me. But I understand her hesitance to believe us about Prometheus. I’ve been here nearly a year and we haven’t found anything. We just have my memories and we know who I used to be. That doesn’t prove anything about Prometheus. It just proves that I’m… I’m crazy or something.” She buried her face in her hands.

Connor frowned. He stepped toward her and crouched in front of her. “You’re not crazy.”

“But to someone who can’t see my memories like you can, what proof do I have of Prometheus?” Wren demanded, dropping her hands from her face. Tears filled her eyes. Connor’s thirium pump hurt to see her so upset.

“Kamski all but admitted that he knew of Prometheus and that he originally created your design,” he said. “And your disappearance. What we know of who you used to be tells me that you wouldn’t have just abandoned your family without absolutely need to. You were forced to leave. And you recognized Atlas Montgomery.”

Wren pressed her lips together and looked away from him. Tears slid down her cheeks. “That doesn’t prove anything. You and Hank could lose your jobs because you kept this a secret, because you trusted that we’d find Prometheus, and we haven’t—”

Connor held her hands. “Listen to me, Wren. You matter more to me than finding Prometheus. I don’t care if I lose my job. I care about what happens to you.”

Tears dripped from Wren’s eyes and splashed down her cheeks. She tugged on Connor’s hands and pulled him close to her. He held her as she buried her face in his chest. Her body shook as she sobbed, and Connor just held her. He squeezed his eyes shut as Wren cried and clung to him. He wanted to take this pain from her, to see her smile again. But he knew there was nothing he could do except hold her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was a bit of a relief to find that Tina had not told anyone when Connor, Hank, and Wren arrived at work the next morning. However, Tina’s coldness toward Hank, Connor, and especially Wren raised a few eyebrows. She usually treated them with warmth and jokes, but she went out of her way to ignore them. She regarded Hank and Connor stiffly when necessary, but refused to even look in Wren’s direction.

Connor observed Wren, who pretended to ignore Tina, but he saw tightness in Wren’s forehead and around her mouth. She was hurting, no matter how much she hid it. Hank and Gavin left the precinct to answer a disturbance call. Connor looked through the cases on his terminal, trying to determine which one required the most immediate attention. However, his processor continuously deviated from the task to Wren.

She used her hand to prop up her head as she looked through cases on her terminal. Her eyes bore a glazed sheen, and Connor knew that her she wasn’t focusing on anything. She looked around when Tina and Chris got up to go to the breakroom. Connor waited for a moment and followed them. He took the elevator down and crossed the bullpen to the breakroom, where Tina and Chris fixed cups of coffee for themselves.

“Hey, Connor,” greeted Chris. Connor flashed Chris a brief smile before making his way over to the coffee machine to fix Wren a cup. “Since when do you drink coffee?”

“I don’t,” Connor replied. He added the precise amount of cream and sugar that Wren normally used.

“Ah, getting your girl some coffee? Nice of you,” said Chris.

Connor stirred the cream and sugar into the coffee and smiled slightly. “She didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” muttered Tina. Connor turned and met her gaze.

Chris looked between them and frowned. “Is… Is everything okay? You and Wren haven’t talked all day.” He looked at Tina.

Connor’s thirium pump. He braced himself to stop Tina from blurting out Wren’s secret.

“She just hasn’t been a very good friend lately,” Tina replied. Connor relaxed.

Chris furrowed his brow. “Oh, man. What’d she do?”

Connor tensed.

Tina held Connor’s gaze and said, “She just hasn’t been honest with me.”

“She had her reasons,” Connor snapped.

Tina narrowed her eyes. “Friends shouldn’t lie to each other.”

“Whoa, hey,” said Chris, lifting his hands, “whatever’s going on, I think it’s best if you guys keep it to yourselves and out of the office, alright?”

Connor dipped his head but eyed Tina. She remained quiet. Chris looked between them, but Connor pursed his lips and exited the breakroom. He rode the elevator with his left hand in a fist. In his right he clenched Wren’s coffee. He pushed a breath through his nostrils before exiting the elevator. He brought the coffee to her and set it on her desk. She jerked as though he woke her.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

“I know,” Connor replied. “I wanted to.”

Wren’s lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. She took a sip. Her eyes warmed with a smile. “Thank you.”

Connor returned the smile, feeling his own insides warm up. He just wanted her to smile again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They stayed late at work again. Hank went home, as they could easily take a cab. Tina left without ever uttering a word to Wren. Connor pulled his chair up next to Wren’s as they sifted through Atlas Montgomery’s past. They looked through records, some of which they possessed access to due to their occupation, though some required some fenagling.

It seemed as though they reached another dead end when Connor read something interesting in Montgomery’s property records.

“There’s a house in Detroit that belongs to him,” he said.

Wren frowned. “But he lives in Quantico.”

“This house is under his name,” said Connor. “It seems he paid cash for it.”

“Cash? For a house? That couldn’t have been cheap,” said Wren.

“It wasn’t,” Connor replied. “He used a lot of his inheritance from his parents.”

“You wouldn’t pay cash for a house unless you don’t want to leave a paper trail,” Wren replied. “How’d you even find it?”

“He’s been making large payments to renovate it,” said Connor. “He isn’t paying for those in cash. See?” He showed Wren the records of the renovations to the house.

Wren whistled. “Those aren’t cheap. What the hell is he doing?”

Connor frowned as he examined the bank statement. “Many of these payments are for re-flooring and keeping the house in stable condition. There’s nothing suspicious about that.”

“No,” agreed Wren, “Prometheus wouldn’t leave a trail for two lowly cops to find.” Her lips twitched. “But it is interesting that he paid cash for the house. I think it’s worth checking out.”

Connor stiffened. “Maybe. But what if we’re wrong?”

“What if we’re _not_?”

Connor scowled at her. “ _Wren_ …”

“Doing nothing is driving me crazy,” Wren insisted. “Connor, please. I’ll go alone—”

“ _No_ ,” Connor stated. He glanced at the address of the house. Then, he met Wren’s pleading gaze. His thirium pump tugged. “What if we don’t find anything?”

“Then… I’ll back off Atlas Montgomery. I’ll try to forget this. Or I’ll wait for some other genius plan.” Her joke hung weakly between them as Connor furrowed his brow.

“Alright,” he relented. “When should we go?”

“Tomorrow night,” said Wren. “He’s supposed to have some pro-android function.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor found himself unable to focus the next day. Wren seemed just as antsy as they analyzed a crime scene. Connor analyzed the same blood sample three times (earning a “Connor you’re so fucking disgusting” from Hank) before he realized he hadn’t even examined the bullet casings on the floor.

They left the crime scene after analyzing it thoroughly. Hank peered at Connor with narrowed eyes. “Do you kiss Wren with that nasty mouth?”

Connor raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Please tell me you wash your mouth before you kiss her,” said Hank. “Especially after analyzing blood samples. Or anything.”

“Of course I do,” Connor replied.

Hank relaxed. “Good.” He sighed as he parked the car at the DPD. “So… You guys are really gonna do this thing tonight?”

Connor exchanged a glance with Wren. She leaned forward from the backseat.

“Hank, I know you’re against it…”

“Damn right, I’m against it,” snapped Hank. He folded his arms. “I don’t see why you gotta do this.”

“My nightmares are getting worse,” said Wren. “I _know_ something’s happening. I can’t ignore a gut feeling.”

Hank sighed. “I know, kid.” He twisted in his seat to peer at Connor and Wren. His eyes looked wetter than usual. “Look, uh… You kids are the only family I’ve got. I’d rather not lose either of you. But I’ll be there when you need me, okay?”

Connor’s throat tightened and his eyes pricked. He worked his jaw and hoped the burning in his eyes would lessen. “Hank, I…”

“No need to say anything,” Hank replied. He cleared his throat and faced the front. “I know.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Later that night, Hank dropped them off near the woods, in which Atlas Montgomery’s secret house nestled. Connor promised Hank that he and Wren would meet him at the nearest gas station. Hank knew to call for help if Connor and Wren didn’t show within an allotted amount of time.

Connor and Wren hiked through the woods until they arrived at a wire fence, sectioning off the Montgomery property. They climbed a nearby tree and shimmied along one of its branches before dropping down on the other side. They crept through the trees. Fortunately, the snowfall from that day provided them with softer footsteps. The darkness helped disguise their footprints, too. Connor flattened against a tree as a guard patrolled past. Wren stood with her back against a tree near Connor. They waited for the guard’s flashlight to pass before moving.

They reached the edge of the trees and crouched by the bushes when the house came into view. It was a large house, a borderline mansion. Connor presumed that Atlas got the house cheaper because of its poor condition, hence all the renovations. It was too large and nice a house now to be purchased in cash.

Connor scanned the area. He counted one guard patrolling this side of the house. There were security cameras on the house, too.

“I can’t hack the cameras unless we get closer,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t hack them,” Wren hissed back. “That’ll just alert security that something’s going on. There’s a blind spot. Look.” She pointed. Connor looked and noted the blind spot toward the corner of the house, underneath a window. He glanced at the guard.

“We’ll be too exposed.”

“Watch their patrol for a second,” Wren muttered. They waited and watched. The guard walked in a pattern that never wavered.

Connor and Wren waited for the guard to turn his back to them. While he walked toward the front of the house and grumbled about the cold, Wren and Connor scurried toward the side of the house.

“Lift me up,” Wren breathed. Connor kept his eye on the guard’s back as he lifted Wren toward the window. She broke the lock with her knife. She opened the window and pulled herself inside. Connor took a few steps back and then charged for the house. He jumped and caught the window sill. Wren pulled him inside.

He dropped into a bedroom. “Why would Montgomery hide that he has a second house?”

“I’m gonna be mad if all he’s hiding is a secret family or affair like every other politician.”

Connor frowned. “I doubt he’d have this much security just for a secret family.”

“I know,” said Wren. “I was kidding.”

“Got it.”

“We should find the security room.”

Connor nodded. They pushed open the bedroom door and peered into the hall. No guards patrolled it for the moment. They crept down the hall and checked the rooms. They were all bedrooms. Wren felt along the paneling of the walls and Connor scanned for discrepancies in the framework, but they found nothing. So, they moved back down the hall and down a set of stairs. They stepped onto a landing. Connor and Wren crouched, seeing a patrol of guards on the floor below. They crept along the wall and snuck inside the first room.

“Whoa,” Wren whispered. The room was stacked full of CyberLife boxes. Wren opened one of them to find android arms inside. She and Connor exchanged a glance.

**[Corresponding with CyberLife?]**

They entered the next room through a door behind a CyberLife box. The next two rooms were like the first, stacked full with CyberLife boxes. They entered the landing once more. There was only one door left at the end of the landing.

Crouching, Wren opened the door. Connor scanned the room upon seeing two guards, sitting with their backs to the door. They observed a few monitors.

**►Incapacitate guard on left**

Connor lunged for the guard on the left while Wren took the guard on the right. Connor wrapped his arm around the guard.

“Hey!” barked the guard to the right. Wren hit hiss head _very_ hard, effectively knocking him out.

Connor choked the other guard until he slumped, unconscious.  

“We should hide them,” Wren whispered.

“And take these,” Connor murmured. He removed the two guards’ earpieces and handed one to Wren. She stuck it in her ear while Connor placed the other in his. They moved the unconscious guards into a closet and locked it.

“Alright, we don’t have much time,” Wren whispered. She looked at the monitors. Connor followed her gaze and frowned. It seemed there were only enough cameras to monitor the outside of the house and the main rooms of the house.

“There. That’s his office,” said Connor, pointing.

“What is that?” Wren pointed to the screen directly to the right of the office.

Connor squinted at the room, but the lights were off inside. “I don’t know… It looks like… A laboratory of some sorts.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Wren stood. “Okay. We’ve got to get to the main level—”

“ _Williams_ ,” crackled a male voice in Connor and Wren’s earpieces, “ _come in. Thought I heard a yell_.”

Connor quickly sampled the right guard’s voice. “False alarm,” he said into the microphone. He released the button.

“ _Copy that_ ,” radioed the other guard.    

Wren’s eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Connor merely winked at her. They left the security room and snuck down the stairs. They managed to avoid guards by ducking inside rooms and behind furniture. At last, they reached the office. Connor hacked the lock on the door. It clicked open, and they slipped inside. Connor locked the door behind them.

Connor made his way over to the computer at the desk. His skin rippled away as he reached for the computer to hack into it.

“Wait!” hissed Wren, holding up a hand. Connor halted, his hand hovering above the terminal screen. “Remember how I told you not to hack my laptop when we first met?”

Connor frowned. “You think this could give me a virus?”

Wren shrugged. “It’s part of Prometheus protocol.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Look for paper.”

“Paper?”

“Paper can’t be hacked,” Wren explained. She turned on her heel and ran her hands along the bookshelf behind her. “There’s got to be a safe or something…”

The skin returned to Connor’s hand as he helped Wren search for some sort of hidden safe or cabinet. Connor scanned the room and detected a metal spot behind one of the wooden walls. He pointed it out to Wren. She felt along the wood paneling and pressed it. It slid to one side, revealing a metal door.

“Do you think it’s safe to hack?” Connor asked.

“Let’s see,” Wren replied. She placed her cybernetic, skinless hand on the door before Connor could offer to do it. The metal door slid open. “No virus. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if it sent some alert to Montgomery or something.”

Connor poked his head into Montgomery’s office and hacked the camera so that there would be no evidence of their search later. He followed Wren through the metal doorway. They walked down a set of stairs.

“You should let me risk a virus,” he advised.

“It would be easier for you to get me out of here than for me to drag you out,” said Wren’s disembodied voice. They felt along the walls for a light switch. Connor knew she was right. He was heavier than her. If a virus disabled him, Wren would have a much harder time dragging him out than he would have carrying her. He still didn’t like Wren risking viruses, no matter what the logic behind it said.

Light flooded the room when Connor found the switch. He blinked as his visual components adjusted to the sudden brightness. He disabled the camera in the far corner of the room before he registered what the lab contained.

“Oh my God,” whispered Wren.

Connor widened his eyes and his mouth fell open. Android bodies littered the laboratory. Some lay strapped to tables. Some hung by their wrists from the ceiling. All of them bore gaping holes in their abdomens, wires hanging out like intestines. Containers of thirium lined the walls on shelving racks. Connor brushed past an android hanging by his wrists. The android’s entire lower half was gone. Wires and tubes dangled in its place. A lump formed in Connor’s throat. His thirium pump beat so fast he thought it might explode.

He glanced toward Wren for some comfort. Her face was ashen as she looked around. He reached for her hand. She returned his grip just as tightly. They stood in the lab full of android bodies without moving for a few seconds.

Wren cleared her throat. “We… We should look for…”

“Yeah,” Connor croaked. He released Wren’s hand to search for anything that might link Atlas to Prometheus. However, he found the android bodies incriminating enough. He opened up a storage closet. Inside stood at least fifty shut-down androids. They were not mutilated like the ones in the main portion of the lab, but they were not alive, either. Connor’s mouth dried.

“Over here,” Wren called. She sounded hoarse. Connor tore his gaze away from the storage room. He closed the doors and found Wren in a corner of the lab where a filing cabinet sat. They sifted through files. Connor read faster than Wren, even though she read faster than most people. They managed to get through several files within a matter of minutes. Connor’s brow puckered as he withdrew a set of blueprints for a familiar building. His eyebrows raised.

“These are the blueprints for Jericho,” he stated. He showed Wren.

She bit her lip for a moment. “He has enough information to cripple the building if he wanted to.”

Connor’s blood seemed to freeze. He licked his lips and took a picture of the blueprints. In the same file were reports on android systematics and blueprints of their bodies, as well as the blueprints for a building that Connor didn’t recognize. Wren found designs for explosives. Connor met Wren’s gaze.

“You were right,” he breathed. “He’s definitely planning something.”

Wren took a picture of their findings, as well as one of the lab. “Okay, we should be good to go—”

“ _Williams, you idiot! What the fuck are you doing up there? Montgomery’s here and you didn’t report it! I just got my ass chewed out because of you!_ ” The guard radioing in definitely sounded displeased. Connor lifted his eyebrows as he met Wren’s wide eyes.

“He shouldn’t be back yet!” Wren hissed. She closed her eyes. “Fuck, that door… It must’ve sent an alert to him…”

“It doesn’t matter why he’s back,” Connor replied. “We need to go, now.”

Wren hurried to the light switch and shut off the lights while Connor put everything back into the filing cabinet. His visual components adjusted to the darkness, and he spotted Wren moving toward him. He scanned the room for a way out. He spotted a window, but the snow outside would make maneuvering out of it difficult. He opened his mouth to mention it to Wren, but footsteps outside of the laboratory door.

“Hide!” Wren breathed. Connor grabbed her and pulled her into a closet. He shut the door as they slid inside. He locked it for good measure. The limited space forced Connor and Wren to stand extremely close together. Connor was hyper-aware of Wren’s chest pressed against his. He felt her hips near his. He gripped her waist, partly out of comfort and partly to keep her this close to him.

“Sir, we haven’t had anyone in the house,” said a guard. Connor stilled. Wren held her breath.

“The alarm went off,” said Atlas Montgomery. Connor listened to the click of dress shoes against a concrete floor. They scraped as Atlas turned. “Did one of your men come in here?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” stated the guard. Connor recognized the voice as the guard on the radio.

Atlas’s footsteps neared the closet. Wren gripped the lapels of Connor’s jacket. He squeezed her waist tighter. If they were discovered, they wouldn’t have much of a chance to fight their way out of this. Wren’s breath tickled Connor’s neck. Atlas’s footsteps passed the closet. Wren flinched when Atlas slammed open the filing cabinet door next to the closet.

“Is anything missing, sir?” queried the guard.

“No, it’s all here…” Atlas hummed.

“ _Uh, sir? We’ve got a situation_ ,” said a voice in Connor’s earpiece.

“What is it?” said the guard in the room.

“ _We found Williams and Morris in the security room. They were compromised_.”

“Shit. Are you sure?”

“ _Positive_.”

The guard in the lab sighed. “Sir, some of my men just found the two on security duty. I think we should move you to a safer place. We’ll search and secure the area.”

“If it’s who I think it is, you’ll never catch her. 01’s good at her job,” muttered Atlas. He stood right outside the closet door. Connor gripped Wren closer.

“Well, you should still be somewhere safe,” said the guard. “Especially if it is 01. You said she might have a vendetta against you.”

“Might,” said Atlas. “Fine. But if you find her, I want her alive. If she’s got that RK800 model with her, I want it, too.”

“Yes sir.”

Connor and Wren waited until both sets of footsteps left the room. He let out a sigh.

“We should go,” Connor whispered. His thirium pump stuttered when their lips brushed. Being this close to Wren, even in danger (or possibly because of the danger), was doing strange things to him. He unlocked the closet door and pushed it open. The lab was shrouded in darkness, but it was no darker than the closet had been. He gripped Wren’s hand and examined the windows at the top of the walls. He searched for one with minimal snow piling up in front of it.

“Connor,” Wren muttered, stopping. Connor halted. He followed Wren’s gaze toward a single model standing, unpowered. Connor’s brow puckered. The android looked like _him_ , but it was not him. This android looked an inch taller. He wore a black shirt and a high-necked jacket. Imprinted on the jacket was his model number: RK900.

Frowning, Connor exchanged a glance with Wren. He pulled her toward a window. “We should go.”

Wren nodded and tore her gaze away from RK900. Connor climbed up to the small window. He smashed it open with his elbow. He crawled through snow, glass tearing at his jacket. He carved a path for Wren, who followed him easily. They looked around. Seeing no guards, they sprinted toward the forest. They didn’t slow down until they reached the fence. Connor touched it to make sure that it wasn’t electric. Satisfied, he nodded to Wren. They backed up a few steps and then charged toward the fence. They climbed it easily and landed on the other side. They ran through the forest until they reached the main road. They stopped so that Wren could catch her breath.

“That RK900… He… He looked like _you_ ,” Wren panted.

“I know,” Connor murmured.

Wren straightened. “You’ve never seen him before?”

“No. I’ve only seen one other RK800, and Hank killed him. I wouldn’t doubt if there are more, but I’m sure they’re locked in a CyberLife warehouse somewhere.” The thought chilled Connor to his synthetic bones. He swallowed. “We should meet Hank before he calls for back-up.”

“Right,” Wren huffed. They walked along the road for about a mile before they reached the gas station where Hank waited.

Hank started up the car as soon as he spotted them. They climbed into the car. Wren shivered from the cold. Connor stripped of his jacket and wrapped it around Wren’s shoulders. She leaned into him and he held her. Hank blasted the heater.

“Well? What’d you guys find?”

“I think he’s planning to attack Jericho,” Wren murmured.

Connor searched the address of the building he didn’t recognize from earlier. “Hank, what is Vernor Hall?”

“Vernor Hall? Uh, it’s a building where people can rent out spaces and have events in. People don’t use it as much as places like the Solitude Banquet Center and whatnot, but… I guess it’s still in use. Why?” said Hank.

“I found blueprints of it in Montgomery’s file,” said Connor. “The same file that contained blueprints of Jericho and android bodies.”

“Did you say android _bodies_?”

“As well as designs for a bomb,” added Wren. “It was horrible, Hank. Like a lab… They were… They were just _hanging_ there…”

Yellow flickered inside the car from Connor’s LED. He swallowed as Wren weaved her fingers through his.

“Okay, so you guys found something… You think he’s planning on attacking Jericho? How so?” Hank said. He leaned against the door as he drove.

Connor furrowed his brow, going over the schematics in his processor. He widened his eyes. “I think he might be making bombs out of the android bodies. He’s going to send them in and set them off.”

Wren straightened. “That makes sense. He had all those untouched androids… He’s perfecting his technique so that the androids are still functional while they’re living bombs. He had the blueprints of Jericho, so he knows exactly where to send these androids in order to cripple the building.”

“But why did he have blueprints of Vernor Hall?” Hank queried.

Connor frowned. “We should check out what events are planned for Vernor Hall. Atlas might be targeting a specific one.”

“Alright, we’ll worry about that tomorrow. You guys have done enough tonight.”

Connor agreed as he settled against the car door. Wren leaned against him. He couldn’t forget how it felt to have her against him in the closet. Warmth pooled in his abdomen and settled between his legs. Heat rose to his cheeks. He shifted, hoping this feeling was just a malfunction. What was _wrong_ with him? How could he be… _aroused_? He’d been locked in a closet with her, inches away from getting caught and killed… But the thought of being so close to her, her hips in such proximity to his, overwhelmed his processor.

The warmth faded over the drive. By the time they reached the house, Connor felt relieved that his inopportune arousal was no longer an issue.

“Alright, it’s late. I’m goin’ to bed,” said Hank. He paused before his bedroom door and glanced back at Wren. “I’m glad you guys are okay.”

“We are, too,” Wren breathed. Hank slipped inside his room and shut the door. Wren and Connor entered Connor’s room. He closed the door behind him. Wren leaned against the dresser and folded her arms.

“That was too close,” she muttered. “We were lucky we weren’t caught. Almost too lucky.”

Connor’s brow pinched. “Do you think he let us go?”

“I don’t know,” Wren rubbed her forehead. “I don’t think he knew we were there… But I feel like he’s got something worse planned. He knew it was me. I have a really bad feeling about all this…”

Connor agreed. He crossed his arms. “We need to figure out when he might attack.”

“Assuming he doesn’t change his plan,” Wren replied. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “All of those androids… The whole time we were locked in that closet, I couldn’t help but think of Atlas doing that to you if he found us… I’d lose my mind if he did.”

Connor’s thirium pump tugged. The closet reemerged in his memory, too. He crossed the room toward her and cupped her face. He kissed her gently, allowing his lips to linger on hers as he murmured, “I’d lose my mind if he hurt you, too.”

Wren’s eyes met his. He held her gaze for a long moment. Then, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him. He widened his eyes at the passion behind her kiss before melting into it. His eyes slid shut and he reciprocated, moving his mouth in tandem with hers.

Wren’s hands ghosted down his chest. Connor shivered as the warmth returned, pooling in his stomach before settling between his legs. He breathed out into Wren’s mouth to ventilate his systems. His pants tightened when Wren gripped his belt and pulled his hips toward hers. He grabbed her waist to hold her closer. He wanted to have her as close as physically possible.

Wren grinded against the tightness in his jeans and Connor _moaned_. He and Wren froze. Connor didn’t even know he could make a sound like that. His eyes stretched open and he met Wren’s gaze.

“I-I don’t know what that was—”

“That was _hot_ ,” Wren breathed. Connor’s systems stopped for a moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He closed his eyes and kissed her deeply. His body twitched toward her. He _wanted_ her.

Wren broke off the kiss. “Are you okay with this?”

Connor nodded, feeling a little dizzy. “I… I don’t have any experience—”

“That’s okay.” Wren kissed him again. Connor let her take the lead. She walked him toward the bed. His knees buckled when they hit the bed. He sank onto it. Wren climbed onto his lap. Connor held her waist and watched as Wren unbuttoned her flannel, letting the shirt fall open and expose her black bra and otherwise bare torso. His eyes roamed over her scars. His body trembled. His eyes zeroed in on a particular scar, the one that marked where she took a bullet for him. He pressed his lips to the scar.

Wren let her shirt fall to the floor. She unclamped her bra and tossed it to the side. Connor gazed at her for a moment.

 **< p>** **d293LCBzaGUgaXMgc28gYmVhdXRpZnVsLiBJJ20gc28gbHVja3k= <p> **

He kissed her breasts and gripped her tightly. Wren leaned her head back and sighed. Connor dug his fingers into her back. Wren pushed Connor’s jacket off. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt with surprising deftness. Connor shrugged out of the shirt. He wanted to feel Wren’s chest pressed against his. He wanted to feel their skin touching. He held her close, feeling her heartbeat and warmth against him.

“You okay?” Wren queried, cradling his head as he rested it on her breasts.

“Yes,” Connor breathed. She pushed him back. He pushed himself back to lie against the pillows. Wren kissed down his neck, along his collar and down his chest. As her lips brushed near the area where his thirium pump regulator was located, Connor tensed. She couldn’t see it due to his synthetic skin, but she could easily wrench it from his body. He never felt more exposed. But Wren kissed it. He shivered and leaned his head back. His breath hissed between his lips in shaky pants.

Wren’s lips trailed down to the hem of Connor’s pants. His hips bucked slightly. He was _throbbing_ as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. She jerked them down, exposing him to her. He gripped the sheets. When her lips wrapped around him, he arched his back.

“ _Ah_ , f-fu—ah—” He couldn’t speak. He sought her hand and intertwined their fingers. He tugged for her to come back toward him. She crawled to his lips. He captured them with his, breathing a shaky moan into her mouth.

They were less ceremonious about removing the rest of their clothing. To see Wren naked overwhelmed Connor. She trusted him enough to be this vulnerable with him. He held her close to him for a moment, his eyes heavy. He drew back to gaze at her, hoping his eyes showed how much he loved her. He kissed along her neck and down her breasts. She squirmed underneath him. He kissed her hip bones and Wren let out a soft, breathy moan. Connor looked up at her, a shiver running through his body.

“Make that noise again,” he murmured.

Wren stared at him. “ _Make me_.”

His lips twitched. He kissed her thigh. Wren writhed under his lips as he neared her. When he used his tongue, he managed to make Wren moan. Each soft noise sent a shiver down Connor’s spine. His whole body hummed with want, and he longed to be inside her. He trailed kisses back up her body. Wren rolled on top of him. She hovered above him, panting slightly. Their eyes met, and he nodded. She sank down onto him, and he groaned.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she rode him. The way her hips moved, Connor knew her body remembered her life as a dancer. She was so beautiful. He gripped her hips and bucked into her. Her lips parted in a gasp. Connor’s own breathing came in breathy pants and rasps. When Wren rolled her hips slowly, Connor let out a particularly loud moan.

Wren lowered herself, flattening her chest against his. She placed her fingers over her his lips and grinned. “Shh… You’ll wake up Hank.”

Connor leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. He stifled another moan. “S-Sorry.” He breathed a smile as he met Wren’s gaze. He moved so that he was on top of her, taking the lead. He reached for her hand, wanting to connect beyond the physical. Their fingers interlaced. Connor’s synthetic skin around his hand dissipated. Wren mimicked the action. The jolt that ran through his body when they connected forced a grunt out of his mouth. He poured how he felt into the connection. He wanted—needed—Wren to know how much he loved her, and what it meant to be this intimate with her. Similar feelings channeled to him from Wren. There was something else there, too. He felt her fragility, how overwhelmed she felt that this wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t fucking. This was so much _more_.

Connor’s heart ached with tenderness. He bowed his head, burying his face in Wren’s neck as he thrust inside her. He was close, he loved her so much—

“Ah, f-fuck…” Connor gasped and jerked as he climaxed. Still inside Wren, Connor used his fingers to help Wren orgasm. She trembled and bucked as she got close. She moaned and clung to him until finally, her walls clenched around him, drawing a whimper out of him. She collapsed into him, heaving for breath. Connor pulled out of her, but remained pressed against her, holding her close to him as they faced each other.

He tucked some hair behind her ear as he gazed into her eyes. “I… I love you _so much_.”

Wren’s lips twitched. Tears sparkled in her eyes. Connor widened his eyes as Wren covered her face with her hands. She shook with a soft sob. Connor grabbed her wrists gently and leaned over her.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m… I’m so _happy_ ,” Wren whimpered.

Connor’s face twitched with a frown, and he released Wren’s wrists. “You’re crying because you’re happy?”

Wren wiped her eyes and lowered her hands. Connor held her face in his hands; his brow creased. Wren chuckled weakly. “I’m sorry, I’m such a loser for crying after sex… I’m just so happy to have you and no one’s ever been so loving and gentle with me during sex like you were and—”

Connor hugged her tightly as tears filled her eyes again. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his fingers in her hair. “You’re not a loser. I love you, Wren. I hope you know how much I love you, and I will _never_ hurt you.”

Wren pulled back to look at him. She cradled his face in her hands, the corners of her eyes still wet. “I love you more than anything.”

**⌂Path Unlocked: Wren: Lover⌂**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... Yeah, I normally don't write smut because I'm shy AF... So please have mercy on my lmao. Anyway, two more chapters left and then it's on to Part 2!   
> Songs:   
> "Dusk Till Dawn" by ZAYN ft. Sia   
> "Feel the Fire" by pluko (breath remix)   
> (also, if I need help getting into that mood... "Or Nah" by SoMo (bass boosted version on YouTube)


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning for the next 2 chapters: Talk of sex and violence ahead!

_She stepped along a linoleum floor. Who knew hell looked so much like a hospital? She reached the end of the white hallway. She gritted her teeth at the buzzing noise from the florescent light above her. An open doorway before her gave her pause. But there was nowhere else to go but forward. She stepped inside the room._

_The walls were dark grey and metal. She narrowed her eyes at the dimness. A chair with leather restraints attached to it sat in the middle of the room. Her heart jumped to her throat. She stumbled back toward the entrance, but her back hit a solid wall. She glanced around, her breathing growing more frantic. There were no doors or windows._

_“Ah, you’re here,” greeted Prometheus, appearing in the center of the room. He turned. He still bore no eyes or nose, but now he possessed a mouth. He smiled and Wren’s body chilled. “Come, have a seat. It’ll make things much easier for both of us.”_

_Wren shook her head, but she couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat._

_Prometheus frowned. “CY001, I command you to sit.”_

_“No.”_

_“Cy, just sit in the chair.” Wren turned toward the new speaker. She parted her lips._

_“Rhett?”_

_The CIA operative furrowed his brow. “Just sit in the chair.”_

_“Rhett, no, I can’t…”_

_Rhett’s gaze grew pained. “You always chose Prometheus over me. Why not now?”_

_Wren backed away. “I can’t…”_

_“Kid, don’t,” said Hank from behind Wren. She wheeled to see Hank and Connor. Connor extended a hand._

_“I won’t let them hurt you,” Connor murmured. “I promise.”_

_Wren managed a small smile. She reached for Connor’s hand._

_“It’s not yourself you should be worried about,” Prometheus whispered in Wren’s ear. She widened her eyes._

_The RK900, his eyes still closed, appeared in between Wren and Connor. The RK900 turned his back to Wren and reached toward Connor. There was a click and Connor grunted. The RK900 turned around, holding Connor’s thirium pump regulator in his hand. Connor dropped to his knees, one hand covering the hole in his abdomen. Thirium dripped between his fingers. He lifted his eyes to Wren’s._

_“Help… me…”_

_“N-no,” Wren whimpered. She stepped forward, but Prometheus held her by her throat._

_There was a sickening, metallic crunch as the RK900 crushed Connor’s pump regulator._

_Connor collapsed. Hank dropped beside him._

_“Connor! No!” he breathed, cradling Connor. Hank lifted his head to face Wren. “You… You could’ve saved him! Why didn’t you save him?”_

_“You should’ve sat in the chair.” Prometheus’s whisper raised the hair on the back of Wren’s neck._

“Wren?” Connor’s voice permeated Wren’s nightmare. She opened her eyes and looked around. Connor peered down at her with a creased brow. “You were muttering in your sleep. Was it another nightmare?”

Wren closed her eyes and nodded. She pulled her knees to her naked chest. “I didn’t obey… I didn’t obey and they killed you. It should’ve been me…”

Connor shifted so that he sat up. Wren flinched slightly when he placed a hand on her back. “It was just a dream.”

“I know, but that doesn’t make it any less horrible. I’m getting tired of seeing you die. Even if it’s not real.”

Connor’s arms enveloped around her. She turned to bury her face in his bare chest. He stroked her hair. “I wouldn’t want to see that, either. I’m sorry.”

Wren wrapped her arms around Connor’s waist. She gripped him tightly, flattening her chest against his. Her face smushed against his skin. “I just want it to stop.”

“I know. I’m sorry… I wish I could fix this,” Connor breathed. Wren’s eyes pricked with tears. Connor pulled away from her. Wren tilted her head back to look at his face. Connor’s eyes searched Wren’s. “It’ll be alright. Do you trust me?”

Wren nodded. “I trust you.”

Connor’s mouth twisted with a crooked smile. “I have a feeling that it’ll be alright.”

Wren hummed. “A _feeling_ …”

Connor kissed her chastely. “And I’m an advanced prototype. I’m not helpless.”

Wren relaxed. “For some reason, in these dreams… You never fight back. And I’m always too slow. And Hank, he doesn’t move, either. He waits until you’re dead, and then he looks at me and asks why I didn’t save you.”

She laid back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. Connor stretched out beside her but propped himself up on his elbow to gaze down at her.

“I think in an actual situation, you can trust Hank and me to not just stand there and do _nothing_. We’re a little more useful.”

Wren’s lips twitched. She met Connor’s gaze as he smirked. Wren couldn’t help but return the gesture. She poked Connor’s side. “Smug little shit.”

Connor’s smirk fanned into a lopsided smile. “You seem to forget that we managed on our own before you came along.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “Silly me. Here I was thinking that your life started when I entered it.”

Connor’s smile softened. “It did, in some ways.”

“Hmm,” Wren’s gaze flitted toward the ceiling. “You know, I remember watching the news coverage of that night. It caught off shortly after you showed up with all those CyberLife androids. I never imagined that I’d meet you, let alone fall in love with you.”

Connor’s LED flashed. “Or point a gun at me?”

“I hadn’t deviated when I took North hostage. I was trying to,” Wren turned her head to meet Connor’s gaze. “Besides, nothing says true love like shooting the person in the shoulder.”

Connor snorted. “Well, I hope the shooting is behind us.”

“I’d say it is.”

“Good,” Connor murmured. He kissed Wren’s lips.

Wren snaked her arms around his neck. “I prefer this anyway.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren dressed and readied herself for work while Connor left for the kitchen. As Wren finished applying mascara, the aroma of coffee permeated the air. It seemed to summon Hank from his bedroom, too. Wren and Hank entered the kitchen, where Connor fixed them both cups of coffee, just the way they liked it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Wren murmured, hopping onto the counter. She cradled her coffee mug.

“I wanted to,” said Connor. He padded to Sumo’s bowl and scooped kibbles into it. Sumo wagged his tail and munched on his food.

“I heard you guys talking last night,” said Hank, sipping from his coffee as he read the news on his tablet. “What time did you guys go to bed?”

“Late,” said Wren. She sipped from her coffee.

Hank looked up from his tablet. His eyes flicked to Wren, who exchanged a glance with Connor. Blue flushed across Connor’s nose. His LED flickered and Hank widened his eyes. He leaned back in his chair with a scowl.

“Argh, Jesus, you two are so disgusting—in Cole’s old room? The fuck’s the matter with you two?”

Wren caught the twitch of Hank’s lips and tried not to smile.

“I-I… We… We didn’t…. We weren’t trying to disrespect Cole—I’m sorry, Hank, it… It won’t happen again—” Connor’s eyes were wide. He looked to Wren for help, his LED flickering yellow. Her eyes slid to Hank, who snorted and waved a hand.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, Connor. It’s your room now. Though I’d rather _not_ know what the two of you are doin’ in there… Just work on keeping your composure, got it?”

“Got it,” choked Connor.

Wren snorted into her coffee mug.

“So,” said Hank, “you gonna research Vernor Hall today?”

“Yeah. We should figure out what events are planned there. We should also tell Markus about what we found and warn him.”

“Agreed,” Connor said, sounding eager to change the subject.

“And I should head over to my house,” said Wren. “Pack some clothes. Thank God you had an extra toothbrush and I had some stuff in my bag…”

“You’re not gonna try to talk this out with Tina?” Hank lifted a brow.

Wren shrugged. “There’s nothing more to say. I’m giving her space to wrap her head around this. Hopefully our friendship means more to her than the things I kept from her… But I don’t know. It’s up to her to decide.”

“Alright,” sighed Hank.

Wren finished the rest of her coffee, rinsed out her cup and placed it in the dishwasher. She disappeared in the bathroom to brush her teeth. Once Hank finished readying himself, the three of them left for work.

Tension knotted Wren’s muscles as she rode the elevator up to the Human-Android Division level. She held her breath as she approached her desk. Tina glanced up from her terminal. Wren flashed a small smile in Tina’s direction, but Tina merely looked back at her terminal screen. Wren’s chest ached as she sat down. She caught Connor’s eye. His LED flickered and his brow puckered, but he said nothing.

Gavin, as per usual, strolled in fifteen minutes late. He smirked as he entered their cluster of desks. “Sup, fuckers?”

Wren glanced toward Connor again. Connor looked down and away, smiling slightly. Wren’s heart warmed. At least she still had him.

She sighed and turned her attention to her terminal. She ignored her DPD duties and focused on researching Vernor Hall. She reviewed its blueprints until she memorized its layout. Then, she looked over its events planned over the next week or so. She researched each host, looking for people of interest. She froze when she came across the name Allen Woodward. She quickly analyzed his name.

**[Woodward, Allen]**

**[Born November 15, 2001]**

**[Criminal Record: None]**

**[Status: Business owner]**

**[Well-known anti-android affiliate]**

Wren chewed on her cheek and leaned back in her chair. She leaned forward and clicked on a few articles regarding Allen Woodward’s affiliations with anti-android protest groups. He voiced his opinions for any media platform who might listen.

_“I don’t know how anyone’s latched on to this idea that androids are alive. They’re machines. Does no one remember 2018, when the first android came out? Or before that? There was a time before androids, and if we’re not careful, we won’t live to see a time after androids.”_

Wren clicked on another article.

_Allen Woodward, known anti-android activist, had this to say on the matter: “Yeah, they might seem alive, but are they really? They don’t need to eat. They don’t need health insurance. They can withstand conditions that humans can’t. A homeless android can survive whereas a homeless human can’t. We paid thousands of dollars for lifetime use, and now they expect salaries for jobs they were built to do? And we’re supposed to sit around and take it? We need those jobs more than they do!”_

Wren bit her thumb for a moment. Allen Woodward seemed an ideal target, if Atlas were pro-android. But Atlas was most definitely not…

Wren continued researching, but for the next few weeks, the events scheduled at Vernor Hall were weddings and one meeting about the education system.

Why would Atlas possess blueprints of Vernor Hall? Had Markus planned on using the event center as a place for a speech? Wren made a mental note to ask him about it later.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After work, Connor rode in a taxi with Wren to her townhouse. They exited the car and Wren withdrew her key to unlock the front door. Before she could place the key in the keyhole, however, the door swung open. Wren widened her eyes at Chloe.

“Wren, Connor,” Chloe greeted them. She pinched her brow. “What are you two doing here?”

“I live here, you know,” Wren muttered. “I paid my half of rent the other day.”

“We came to pick up a few of Wren’s things,” said Connor.

Chloe’s eyes softened. “Come in.”

Wren pushed away the itch under her skin at being allowed entrance into her _own_ home. She started toward the stairs but stopped to look at Chloe.

“I’m surprised you’re here, actually.”

Chloe’s eyebrows lifted. “Why?”

“Tina was pretty pissed off that you knew about the whole cyborg thing and didn’t tell her.”

Chloe lowered her gaze. “She wasn’t happy with me.”

Wren paused on the steps and turned toward Chloe, leaning on the banister. “What did you say to her?”

Chloe lifted her eyes. “I… I told her the truth. I thought she already knew. I never mentioned it because it was your business. I told her that I don’t know much about Prometheus, just that they scare Elijah. So, I didn’t talk about it. She… She was mad at me all night, but… Wren, I think lonely. She forgave me pretty quickly. She’s _hurting_.”

Wren’s chest felt hollow. She gritted her teeth. “So am I.”

Wren hurried up the stairs before Chloe could say anything else. Wren pushed a hot breath through her nostrils to calm her thrashing heart. Tears pricked her eyes. Tina was hurting? Yeah, well, so was Wren. She burst into her room, still feeling rather hot.

She grabbed a backpack from under her bed and packed some clothes rather aggressively.

“Are you alright?” Connor murmured from the doorway.

Wren looked at him, her brows squishing together. She hadn’t heard him follow her. “I’m fine.”

“Wren…” Connor sighed.

Wren paused in packing her backpack. Her throat swelled with a lump and the knot in her chest built into hot pressure behind her eyes. She bowed her head and her body wrenched with a sob. Connor’s arms enveloped around her in an instant.

“I miss her,” Wren whimpered into Connor’s chest. He cradled her head.

“I know,” he breathed.

“And I’m _mad_ at her.”

“I know.”

“I-I understand _why_ she’s angry and upset with me, but… I don’t know why I’m so angry.”

“She’s your friend,” Connor’s chest hummed with his voice. “It’s okay.”

Wren squeezed her eyes shut, allowing a few tears to escape past her lashes. She gripped Connor tightly. “I’m tired of losing people.”

“You haven’t lost Tina,” Connor assured her. He pulled away to hold Wren’s cheeks. She gazed up at him. His eyes glowed with warmth. “I’m still figuring out relationships, but… I know you and Tina care for one another. I don’t think this is the end of your friendship. Did I tell you that Hank once threatened to shoot me?”

Wren puckered her brow. “No.”

“Before I deviated, Hank put a gun to my head,” said Connor. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Our friendship didn’t end. It got better.”

“Were you keeping a huge secret from Hank?”

“No…”

“It’s not the same,” Wren sighed, pulling from Connor’s grasp.

“Maybe not,” said Connor, “but I think that your friendship matters a lot to Tina. I think you matter to her more than this secret.”

Wren wiped her face and looked at him, her arms folded across her chest. “You think so?”

Connor nodded. “Yes.”

Wren sniffed. “Okay. Let’s go. We need to tell Markus, North, and Josh what we know about Atlas Montgomery.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren and Connor sat facing Markus, North, and Josh in their penthouse living room later that evening. Wren rubbed her palms together and exchanged a glance with Connor before looking at her friends.

“We think Atlas Montgomery is a rogue Prometheus agent,” said Wren.

Markus’s brow pinched. “No, that can’t be right… He’s been helping us fight for our rights.”

“When I ran into him the other day, it triggered a memory,” said Wren. “I remembered his voice at Prometheus. Markus, he’s the one who ordered me to kill you.”

Markus’s lips parted and he raised his eyebrows. North folded her arms and scowled. Josh bowed his head.

“How did we not see it?” Josh muttered.

“Prometheus is good at blending in,” Wren offered. “And he never tried anything to make you think otherwise.”

“So, Atlas is with Prometheus… What do we do now?” North asked, leaning forward.

“Nothing yet,” said Wren. “I have reason to believe he might be planning to attack Markus.” She looked at Markus. “Have you planned any events at Vernor Hall? Or mentioned it to Atlas?”

Markus shook his head, his eyes still wide. “No, I… No.”

Wren frowned as she looked at Connor. His brow furrowed. He looked at North, who regarded them inquisitively.

“We discovered blueprints of Jericho and Vernor Hall at a hidden property of Atlas’s,” Connor explained.

North widened her eyes. “ _Blueprints_? How did he get ahold of those?”

“No idea,” replied Wren. “There’s more.”

“What?” Josh frowned.

Wren and Connor looked at each other. Connor’s LED flickered yellow. Wren swallowed the lump in her throat and looked back at the other three.

“We found… bodies. Of androids. There were tons of them… Some were torn open and mutilated. Others were shut off, just standing in a storage waiting for God knows what. I don’t think they were deviants… They were just…” Wren looked to Connor for help.

He opened and closed his mouth. His jaw tightened. He swallowed and met Markus’s gaze. “They weren’t awake. The mutilated ones were dead. Along with the blueprints of Jericho and Vernor Hall, we found blueprints of android bodies and plans to build a bomb. It looked like Atlas was trying to weaponize biocomponents.”

“Shit…” Markus dragged a hand down his face. He balanced his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands.

“But why kill Markus?” Josh demanded. “We’ve already obtained our freedom. We’re working out finer details and other things, but… Why kill him now?”

“Josh is right,” said North. “They can’t stop what we’ve done. Even if they did manage to kill him, they’d only make him a martyr.”

Wren puckered her brow. “That’s what I can’t figure out, either. And the only person of interest hosting an event at Vernor Hall is Allen Woodward.”

North snorted. “Yeah, I know him. He preaches about how androids shouldn’t be paid and aren’t alive, but I distinctly remember him hanging out at the Eden Club right before I deviated.”

“If he’s anti-android, that doesn’t make him much of a target,” said Josh.

Wren’s frown deepened. “Maybe…” She pursed her lips. “I can’t shake the feeling that Vernor Hall has something to do with this, though. Woodward’s event is planned in three days. I think Jericho needs to be empty that day. And Markus, I think you need to be doing something where there are lots of witnesses, or completely hidden from the public eye. Whichever you prefer.”

Markus nodded. “Of course. When should we evacuate Jericho?”

“Try not to make it obvious that it’s an evacuation,” said Wren. “We want the element of surprise on our side. But Woodward’s event is in three days, to answer your question.”

“Okay, so we need to make sure everyone’s out in three days,” said North. “We can do that discreetly. In the meantime, I’m not letting this asshole interfere with us living our lives. Wren, you look like you need a break. You’re still not sleeping, are you?”

Wren’s cheeks burned as everyone looked at her. “I slept most of last night.”

“Well, that’s a start,” said North. “Markus and I are going to paint at Carl’s house tomorrow. You and Connor should come.”

Wren opened and closed her mouth. She found no reason to argue, however. “O-okay.”

“And you should sleep over,” said North.

“Sleep over?”

“Connor told me you’re not allowed at your own place right now,” said North, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry about Tina. Connor can stay the night, too.”

Wren looked at Connor, who offered her a soft, crooked twitch of his lips. Wren looked back at North and managed a smile. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” said North, leaning back. She frowned. “So, what exactly happened with Tina?”

“Connor and I were interfacing,” Wren muttered. “She saw, so Hank, Connor and I filled her in. She didn’t take the whole secrecy thing well. We told her you guys knew, too.”

“So that’s why she hasn’t spoken to me, either,” said North. She scrunched her lips together. “Chloe knew too, right?”

“Yeah, but she and Chloe are on good terms. Chloe was pretty innocent in all this.”

“Tina’ll come around,” North said. “She loves you. She likes Chloe, and they’re super cute together, but you guys are super close.”

Wren’s chest clenched. She lowered her gaze. “I hope so. She’s also really stubborn.”

“I’ll talk to her,” North offered. “I mean, she’s my friend, too.”

“Yeah… I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” North sighed. “I’m sure she’s more upset about the fact that you kept this from her than she is that you’re a cyborg.”

“That’s what it seemed like,” Wren agreed. She frowned. “It’s just hard to say that Prometheus is dangerous and that I lied for safety reasons when there’s hardly any evidence that Prometheus even exists.”

“You found out about Atlas,” pointed out Josh.

“I found out that Atlas is doing some shady shit,” Wren corrected. “I know he’s associated with Prometheus, but I don’t have any proof. Right now, it’s his word against mine.”

A tense silence met Wren’s words.

Markus lifted his head. “What will you do about Atlas?”

Wren bit her lip. “I… don’t know.” She knew what her operative instincts told her. She swallowed a dark, _I’ll kill him_. If she could find a way to expose Atlas and Prometheus for trying to use her to murder Markus, she could possibly bring the organization down. At the very least, she would be able to free herself by going public with her information. The only problem was, who would believe her without proof?

Connor recorded their evidence at Atlas’s property, but they had broken and entered, so that evidence was not necessarily viable in court. Wren could probably share her memory with Connor and transfer it to a viewable source, but so much transferring would corrupt the audio and visuals. She could possibly get Atlas to admit his involvement… No. Wren knew how Prometheus trained its operatives. While Atlas was not an operative, he was still Prometheus. He knew how to keep a secret. Unless Wren tricked him into admitting his guilt… It still required a confrontation.

“I could draw Atlas out, possibly,” she said aloud. “I could confront him. That doesn’t guarantee that he’ll admit to anything—”

“What, use you as bait?” demanded Josh.

“That’s _not_ happening,” snapped Connor. Wren looked at him. His jaw tightened and he pressed his lips into a thin line. His LED flickered yellow.

“If it ensures all of your safety, then I’ll do whatever it takes,” Wren insisted softly.

**˄North**

Connor worked his jaw. His LED remained amber, though occasionally it flickered red.

Wren reached for his hand. “Connor…”

“No,” he snapped, looking at her. His eyes lost their softness. “We are _not_ going to use you as bait. We’ll find another way.”

Wren’s shoulders slumped. Part of her wanted to remind him that her life was not worth all of theirs. The other part, the louder part, thanked him. She nodded. She faced North, Josh, and Markus. “Hopefully we can draw him out within the next few days with whatever he’s planning.”

North folded her arms. “Hopefully.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren, Connor, North, Markus and Josh destroyed the living room with pillows and blankets. They piled together and watched movies—Wren insisted on comedies—until just after midnight. Wren fell asleep, her back pressed against Connor’s chest. His arm looped around her as she slumped against him, unable to fight the urge to sleep anymore. The others continued watching the movie. Wren saw movement and flashes of light behind her eyelids, but even those faded into darkness.

_She pulled against the restraints around her wrists and ankles. She tried to free herself from the chair, but the restraints kept her fastened to it. She looked around, her breath hissing through her teeth._

_“It seems, child, that you are Prometheus… And I am the eagle,” said the faceless man. Wren widened her eyes as he stepped into her view._

_She jerked at her restraints. “No, please, don’t—”_

_“Don’t have any regrets, 01,” said the faceless man, “you’ve accomplished your mission.”_

_A chill rippled down Wren’s spine as the faceless man plunged a syringe into her neck. She tried to scream, but it died on her lips. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She could only watch. Markus, North, Josh, and Connor appeared before her. Wren whimpered as the faceless man carried a gun. One by one, he shot Wren’s friends—her family—in the head. Their blood splattered the walls with blue. Flecks of it dirtied her clothes, smeared on her face—_

“Wren!”

Someone jerked Wren by the shoulders. She opened her eyes. North gripped Wren’s shoulders. Connor placed a hand on Wren’s back. Markus sat behind North and peered over her shoulder while Josh knelt beside North.

“Are you okay?” Markus queried.

Wren swallowed. “Y-yeah.”

“It was hard to wake you up,” said North, releasing her grip on Wren.

Connor wrapped his arm around Wren’s waist. “Was it Prometheus again?”

Wren nodded. “I couldn’t do anything…”

Connor squished his brows together. He rested his forehead against Wren’s temple. “I know. It’s okay. It’s over.”

“How often do you have these nightmares?” North asked, sitting back.

“Every night. Sometimes there are more than one in a night.”

“Is it the same one every time?” Markus asked.

“No.”

“You’ve got to get out and do something fun,” North sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know if I’ll be very much fun anytime soon,” Wren’s lips twitched.

North rolled her eyes. “You say that like you’re ever any fun.” She nudged Wren playfully with her shoulder. “Prometheus is controlling you with fear, and you’re not even with them anymore. You can’t keep giving them this power over you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever not be afraid of them,” Wren muttered. “I didn’t mean to wake you guys.”

“We were just in stasis mode,” North shrugged. Her eyes softened. She parted her lips to say something, but then stopped. Wren curled against Connor once more. They interlaced their fingers, and their synthetic skin dissipated. Wren closed her eyes as Connor’s concern transferred through her systems, full of static. Wren squeezed his hand and rested her head on his chest. She closed her eyes and waited for a dreamless sleep to envelope her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next day, Connor and Wren joined North and Markus at Carl’s in the early evening to paint. Wren’s chest tightened. Carl seemed frailer than usual. Wren exchanged a shadowed look with North, who pursed her lips and jerked her head.

Carl smiled at them. “North, Wren! It’s been a while since I last saw you two…”

“It has, Carl,” North replied. Wren’s lips twitched. She never heard North speak to a human with such tenderness before. North kissed Carl’s cheek.

“Finally decided I was worth the visit, huh?”

“You’re always worth the visit,” said North. She rolled the wheelchair toward the art studio.

“You guys came at a good time,” said Carl, “I just restocked on canvases and paints for you. Where’s Josh?”

“He had something to work on at Jericho, but he says hello,” said Markus. While Markus and North worked on setting up canvases on easels and gathering paints, Carl turned his wheelchair to face Wren and Connor.

Carl’s eyes zeroed in on Wren and Connor’s intertwined fingers. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I see the two of you reconciled.”

Wren puckered her brow. “Reconciled?”

“Last time Connor was here, he said that something had changed between the two of you. He was afraid you were drifting apart.”

Wren looked at Connor, who avoided her gaze. Blue tinted his skin underneath his freckles. Wren’s mouth curved with a smile as she turned back to Carl.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“I see. Is this a double date for all of you, then?” Carl wheeled himself to direct his question toward Markus and North.

Markus grinned and shook his head. “Carl…”

“So it _is_ ,” Carl sounded gleeful, though his voice wavered slightly. “I’m happy to host.”

Wren and North started painting before Markus and Connor. Carl showed them his massive portrait and demonstrated a few stroking techniques. Wren leaned toward North.

“So? How are you and Markus? Catch me up.”

North raised her eyebrows. She dabbed her paintbrush into a neutral color and stroked the canvas. “We’re good! Really good, actually. We’ve been on a few dates now. I think Josh wants to crawl into a hole and shut down sometimes when we’re around though.” She grinned.

“You guys aren’t all lovey-dovey in front of him, are you?”

“We are, but mainly because we know it annoys him.”

Wren snorted. Her smile faded as she glanced over her canvas and toward Connor. He had his back to her as he gazed up at Carl’s portrait. He was handsome, even from behind.

“What about you and Connor?” North queried.

Wren’s lips twitched. She began to paint, silhouetting a figure from the shadows of her mind. “We’re good. We’ve been on a date. It was really sweet. He showed me what he looks like without his skin.”

North paused in her painting. “Really? That’s… That’s huge, Wren.”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else? You guys seem all… I don’t know. You guys seem closer than ever.”

Wren’s cheeks burned as she glanced over at Connor again. “I don’t know… Fearing for your life with someone has a way of bringing you closer to them.”

North laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.” She puckered her brow. “But, more than that… You guys are more affectionate.”

“Well, we… We might’ve… ya know.”

North raised a brow. “Boned? Dirtied the sheets? Knocked boots? Baked the potato?”

Wren cringed. “Baked the…? The potato? What?”

North snickered. “Wren, I was a Traci. I know over four hundred euphemisms for sex. Some of them are dirty and some are stupid.”

“And funny.” Wren grinned.

“So? Did he bake your potato?”

“Stop calling it that!” Wren hissed.

“Well, he’s not gonna know what we’re talking about. I’m trying to be discreet since he’s standing right over there.”

Markus and Connor now stood by their easels, painting. Wren stared at Connor again. Her mind wandered to the feeling of Connor’s skin pressed against hers, to the way he held her hand as he rolled his hips against hers, to the way his eyes seemed so soft…

“Holy shit, he _did_! You’re blushing!” North gasped.

Wren widened her eyes. “I am not!”

“You are. It must’ve been good then, for you to get all flustered.”

“North, I swear…”

“Come on, you and Connor getting together was one of the tensest things that happened this year. I get to tease you about this.”

“Are you sure my taking you hostage wasn’t the tensest thing to happen this year?” Wren challenged.

North scoffed. “You’re not the first person to point a gun at me. Get over yourself.”

Wren chuckled. “Okay, fine, yes, it was really nice. He was… He was really sweet. I felt bad because I cried afterward.”

“You _cried_?”

Wren glowered. “Every time I’ve had sex, people have always been rough with me. Either I was using my body as a tool or some one else was using me because they were horny or bored. It was different with Connor.”

North’s amusement softened. Her brow wrinkled. “Oh, Wren…”

Wren shrugged. “Not that it fixed everything, and not that it was the grandest show of love or whatever, but… Yeah. It was special. We nearly died that night. I think we wanted to communicate in a way that couldn’t be articulated with words.”

North lowered her gaze. “Markus and I haven’t yet. The thought freaks me out. I was used a lot, too, as a Traci.” She stopped and inhaled. Wren offered her a soft smile. “He’s understanding about it. We’re just taking things slow.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s okay to not like sex.”

North’s lips twitched. “Thank you. It’s nice to hear you say that. Sometimes we’re too similar.”

Wren smirked. She returned to painting. She glanced over at Connor. She glimpsed his painting as he moved to add more color to his brush. Her heart tugged, seeing two android hands with their palms pressed together. She knew that the hands were hers and his. Wren glanced over her painting. She painted herself, but the faceless man leered behind her. He covered her mouth with her hands.

North eyed Wren’s painting. “Is that your nightmare?”

Wren nodded slowly.

“They can’t silence you. Even if they kill you, they can’t shut you up. Because you have us. We won’t keep your story in the dark.”

Wren’s lips twisted. “Thanks. But I’d rather not die.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren looped her fingers through Connor’s. His mouth quirked at the corners and his eyes smiled. Wren returned the warmth and faced Markus and North in the Jericho parking lot.

“Thank you for inviting us along,” Wren said. “That was nice.”

“Of course,” said Markus. “You guys are welcome anytime.”

“And I’ll talk to Tina,” said North. “She can’t be mad at us forever.”

Wren huffed and nodded. “I can only hope.” She looked at Markus. “Make sure to change any appointments you have at the last minute. We want to keep surprise on our side.”

Markus dipped his head. “I will. Thank you for all your help.”

Wren pressed her lips together for a moment. “Well, I feel like some of it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Connor insisted. “If you weren’t on our side, we wouldn’t know Prometheus even existed.”

Wren offered him a smile. He squeezed her hand. North feigned a gag. Wren rolled her eyes at her friend. “You’re one to talk—”

“Operative CY001, you have failed your mission and will be terminated.”

Wren tensed at the unfamiliar voice behind her. Her sensitive audio sensors picked up on the click of a hammer. She released Connor’s hand only to grab him by the jacket and shove him forward.

“ _Get down_!” Wren screamed. She crouched behind a car with Markus, North and Connor. Wren crept along the car, cursing herself for not bringing her gun earlier. She peeked around the edge. A woman with a hard expression stalked toward their position, pistol raised. Wren glanced toward the next car.

**[Calculating… Low risk]**

She scurried to the car. She peeked over it.

**►Preconstruct**

An outline of herself moved around the car, but that simulation failed.

**[Error: Would be too late]**

The next preconstruction showed Wren’s outline jumping atop the car. This drew the Prometheus agent’s attention toward her and away from her loved ones.

**[Warning: High risk]**

Wren withdrew from the simulation and jumped on top of the car. The Prometheus agent wheeled and raised her gun. Wren jumped off the car and kicked the agent’s gun from her hand. Wren positioned herself on the agent’s back and held her in a choke hold. The agent stumbled back and slammed into a car. The agent grabbed Wren by the jacket and launched her off with inhuman strength, smashing Wren into a car so hard the windows shattered. Wren crumpled to the ground with a grunt. The agent was a _cyborg_.

Wren lifted her head, only to see the other end of a gun. But Connor was there before the cyborg could pull the trigger. He kicked the gun from the cyborg’s hand. He tried to punch, but the cyborg grabbed his wrist and twisted.

“Ah!” Connor gasped. Wren knew he couldn’t feel pain like a human, but she knew how it felt to have her robot hand twist in a way that congested the wires. It sent electrical shocks through the body that often caused a ringing in the ears or spasms. It was the android equivalent to pain, and Wren’s heart lurched to see Connor in danger.

Wren launched herself at the cyborg and kicked with both feet. The force of her kick sent the cyborg sprawling back. Wren somersaulted to her feet. The cyborg withdrew a hunting knife. They charged at each other. Wren threw up her arms to block her face. The cyborg’s knife sliced across Wren’s forearms. It was an odd sensation, like cutting the skin where anesthesia had been applied. It tingled.

Wren gripped the cyborg’s wrists and twisted. The cyborg freed one hand and punched Wren. She released her grip on the cyborg and stumbled back. This cyborg seemed faster than Wren, jabbing and punching and advancing with both hands. Wren blocked each blow, but she found herself mostly unable to deliver a strike. She was aware of Markus and North on the outskirts of her vision, but she lost sight of Connor.

The cyborg kicked Wren in the stomach. Her back slammed against a car. She dodged another blow from the other cyborg and swung her leg out, knocking the cyborg to the ground. Wren clambered on top of the cyborg, who attempted to slash at Wren, but Wren caught the blade. Thirium oozed from her palm and along the blade and down Wren’s arm. The blade slipped from the cyborg’s grip. The slight falter was enough to tip the fight in Wren’s favor.

Wren snatched the knife out of the cyborg’s hand and held it to her throat, the tip pointed at the jugular.

“What’s your model number?” Wren demanded.

The cyborg spat in Wren’s face. “You should know better than to ask questions.”

The cyborg wrapped her hands around Wren’s and drove the knife into her own jugular.

“No!” Wren cried. Blood spurted from the cyborg’s throat and around Wren’s hands. She gaped at the woman, who convulsed on the ground before slumping. Wren trembled as she stood, her right hand still gripping the knife. Her heartbeat slammed through her bloodstream. Her ears rang.

“Wren?”

“Wren?”

“Are you okay?”

The voices were muffled. She couldn’t hear. She didn’t want this. Prometheus would never let her escape this crime.

“Wren, look at me.”

Wren forced herself to turn toward Connor’s voice. She looked up at him, heaving for breath.

His LED circled red. His brow creased and the lines around his mouth hardened.

“I…” Wren stared up at him and her heart stuttered. She never wanted him to see her like that. As a murderess. As an assassin. A killer.

Connor crouched to lower the gun in his hand. Wren recognized it as the cyborg’s pistol. It seemed he planned to kill the cyborg for her. He straightened and gripped her shoulders.

“Wren, are you okay?”

“I’m…” Wren sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m _sorry_.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “Wren, drop the knife. I promise, everything’s going to be alright.”

Wren lowered her head. Her hand still gripped the bloody knife. Red coated her hands. She released the knife and let it clatter to the ground. Wren flexed her hands, still staring at the blood. Her right palm flickered with blue light, allowing a peek inside her circuitry and cybernetics. She lifted her head and met Connor’s gaze.

“What… What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to call Hank,” Connor murmured. “Okay?”

Wren nodded. The world seemed to tilt. She stumbled back, but North caught her.

“She should sit down,” said Markus. He and North walked Wren toward a car that wasn’t damaged in the fight. They sat her down. She leaned against the car, staring at her blood-caked hands.

“Looks like they’ve decided to attack sooner than we thought,” said North.

Wren’s brow twitched. “N-no… If they were here for Markus, she would’ve attacked him… She called my name… My model number…”

“Do you think she was with Atlas?” Markus queried.

“No,” said Wren. “I think she was with Prometheus.”

“How’d they know you were here?”

“I’m sure Atlas tipped them off somehow. Maybe anonymously. I don’t know. Prometheus has a lot of resources…”

Connor walked over to them. He crouched in front of Wren. His LED glowed yellow. “Wren, Hank is bringing the team. You’re going to have to explain to them what happened. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Wren swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay.” She frowned and pushed up from the car. Her torso ached from the beating she just took. She figured that the bruises would appear within a few hours. She trekked over to the cyborg’s body and crouched beside her. Wren struggled to take the cyborg’s jacket off. North walked over and pushed the body up. The cyborg’s head lolled to one side. Wren stripped the jacket off the cyborg.

“What are you doing?” Markus demanded.

“Checking for a model number,” Wren muttered. She felt along the cyborg’s arms. The synthetic skin on Wren’s hands melted away. She used her android hands to interface with the dead cyborg, forcing the cyborg’s synthetic skin to vanish to reveal the human parts of the body. Wren’s brow pinched. This cyborg had far more android than just her limbs and inner-mechanisms. Part of the woman’s torso was also cybernetic. Wren lifted the woman’s shirt, searching for the same tattoo that she had on the underside of her arm.

There, underneath the woman’s left breast was her model number in CyberLife Sans font: CY003.

Wren stared at the number for several seconds before exhaling a trembling breath. “003…”

“That means there must be at least one other,” said Connor, standing slightly behind Wren. She lowered the cyborg’s shirt and put the woman’s jacket back on her. Wren and North stepped away from the body. Wren’s hands felt sticky with the drying blood.

“There are probably more,” said Wren. “And it looks like with each addition, they improve them.” She worked her jaw. “I’m obsolete.”

Connor’s jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced back at the dead cyborg. “No. You managed to get rid of her.”

“Yeah,” Wren huffed. She lowered her gaze. She’d rather not kill other cyborgs. If they were like her, that meant this wasn’t their choice.

Hank, Gavin, Chris and Tina arrived within the next few minutes. Hank jumped out of the car and hurried over to Connor and Wren.

“Jesus Christ, Wren,” Hank widened his eyes at her. Wren glanced down at herself. She was covered in blood. She felt flecks of it on her face. “Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s… it’s not my blood.” Wren glanced over her shoulder at the body. Hank’s face darkened.

“Tina and I explained some things to Gavin and Chris on the way, but… You’ll have to fill in some of the gaps.” Hank patted Wren’s shoulder.

She hugged herself as she faced Chris, Gavin, and Tina. Gavin extended his arms and looked around.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m assuming they told you who I am, right?” Wren murmured.

Chris nodded. “Yeah, that you’re… You’re a cyborg? From some secret agency…? Is this some kind of a joke?”

Wren’s synthetic skin melted away, revealing the white plastic of her hands. She showed them her palms. “I’m afraid not.”

“You killed somebody,” Tina breathed, staring past Wren at the body several feet away.

Wren’s eyes pricked. “It’s not what you think—”

“It was self-defense,” said North, stepping forward. “That other cyborg attacked Wren. She had no choice. She would’ve been killed.”

Wren flashed North a glance of gratitude. She turned back to her team. “I’ve… I’ve run out of time. Prometheus knows where I am. I… I…” Wren trailed off. Her heart fluttered in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She clutched her chest. Connor placed a hand on her back.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m right here. You’re okay. Tell us what we need to do.”

Wren squeezed her eyes shut. If she didn’t gather more information, Prometheus would blindside her again. The best way to get information was to examine the body—

“You killed someone,” Tina repeated, a little more vehemently. “Even if it was self-defense, we have to take you in. This is a crime.”

“You’ll be safer at the station, anyway,” agreed Chris.

Wren shook her head. “No, you can’t take me into custody—”

“What, you think because you’re some super-secret spy that you can just get out of everything?” snarled Tina. She gestured to the body. “You fucking _murdered_ someone!”

“I know,” Wren muttered. “But if you take me into custody, we won’t learn anything about Prometheus. I need to examine the body—”

“Oh, so you’re a coroner too, now?” Tina snapped.

Wren gritted her teeth. “I’m trying to stop Prometheus—”

“How do we even know that person is from Prometheus?”

Wren opened and closed her mouth. She knew. But it seemed that no matter what, Tina wouldn’t believe her.

“She’s a cyborg, like Wren,” said Connor. “She was trying to terminate Wren for failing her mission—”

“That proves jack shit!”

“Tina, please,” Wren insisted. “Listen to me. We have to move the body and you can’t take me into custody—”

“No!” Tina yelled. “We’re police. You’re asking us to lie for you to cover up your crime because some secret organization might be after you? Fuck you! I won’t break my oath for a liar and a murderer!”

“Tina, I am trying to protect all of you!” Wren shouted. Everyone stilled as Wren stepped forward. She pointed back at the body. “If you take me into custody and leave the body, Prometheus will send someone to clean it up. And then they will kill all of you because you’re witnesses! Stop acting like I’m some fucking lowlife!”

The air rang with Wren’s yell. Tina gaped at Wren. She parted her lips to say something, but a black SUV pulled into the parking lot, blocking the exit. Wren’s blood seemed to stop.

“It looks like Prometheus may have already found us,” said Chris.

Wren clenched her teeth for a moment as she eyed the man getting out of the SUV. “That’s not Prometheus.”

Rhett Anson wore a Kevlar and pointed a gun at Wren. Connor shifted as if to shield Wren. Rhett gestured with his gun. “All of you, back! Hands where I can see them!”

Connor stepped in front of Wren, but she placed a hand on his arm. “Connor, do what he says.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Gavin demanded.

“Special Agent Anson, CIA.”

Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. He held up his hands and backed off. Tina and Chris stepped back. North and Markus held hands as they moved out of the way. Connor remained where he stood.

“Connor,” Wren murmured. “Please.”

Connor looked at her. His LED flashed bright red. He parted his lips and pinched his brow. Wren offered him a tiny smile.

“Move, now!” Rhett snarled as he neared Connor and Wren.

“Connor, come on, son,” called Hank. Connor backed toward Hank, his eyes never leaving Wren.

Wren faced Rhett. “Hey, Rhett.”

Rhett’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Put your hands up, where I can fucking see them.”

Wren sighed and raised her hands in surrender.

“Behind your head.”

Wren closed her eyes for a moment but placed her hands behind her head. She opened them as Rhett held his gun with one hand and grabbed a pair of handcuffs off his belt.

“CY001, you’re under arrest for desertion and the murder of your fellow agent, CY003.” Rhett holstered his gun and held Wren’s hands behind her back. The clink of cuffs locking around her wrists sent a chill down her spine. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked toward Hank and Connor. Connor stepped forward, but Hank held him back. Connor’s LED flickered red. His mouth hung slightly open.

“I’m assuming the DPD has a holding cell I can borrow? CIA didn’t provide me with a base of operations this time.”

“Hold on,” snapped North. “What the hell does the CIA have to do with Prometheus?”

Rhett glanced down at Wren. “How much did you fucking tell them?”

“Everything,” Wren replied.

Rhett glanced skyward. “Great.” He looked at the others. “Well, I guess now I have to involve local police. Come on.”

Two more black SUVs pulled up and a few CIA agents poured out. Rhett jerked his head in the direction of CY003.

“Body’s that way. Secure the civilian witnesses.” Rhett led Wren with a grip on her cuffed wrists to his SUV.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Hank. “You don’t think we’re about to just let you take off with her?”

Rhett sighed and looked back at them. “You’re more than welcome to escort me to the station. Cy rides with me.”

Hank and the others exchanged a glance. Two CIA agents led Markus and North aside. Hank dipped his head. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Excellent,” chirped Rhett. He shoved Wren into the passenger side of his SUV. Rhett circled to the driver’s side. Wren shifted to ease the discomfort of sitting with her hands cuffed behind her back. Rhett started the car and waited for Hank to lead. Gavin drove behind the SUV, blocking Rhett in. Wren’s chest expanded with warmth for her team. She tried to ignore the hardness in the pit of her stomach.

“Why are you even here in Detroit?” she asked.

“Got a tip that a supposedly dead and rogue Prometheus operative was here and would need handling. What the fuck happened to you? You left Prometheus and tried to assassinate Markus, and now you’ve killed one of your fellow agents?”

“You’re missing a lot of crucial details,” Wren snapped. “Who gave you the tip?”

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” sneered Rhett.

Wren looked out the window. “I’d bet my right hand that it was Atlas Montgomery.”

“The senator?”

“Yep.”  

The silence crackled with tension. Wren closed her eyes for the rest of the trip. She tried to control her breathing, to keep her heart from exploding from her chest. When they arrived at the DPD, Rhett jerked Wren out of the car and led her through the precinct to the interrogation room. Heat prickled up Wren’s neck as officers who she saw everyday gaped at her. Rhett forced her into the interrogation room. She sat down and Rhett cuffed her to the table. He left the room, presumably to go into the observation room on the other side of the two-way mirror.

Wren sighed and buried her face in her hands. She wondered if Hank and Connor stood on the other side of the glass, too. She couldn’t forget the look in his eyes as he watched her get arrested. The minutes dragged by, and with each one, the urge to scream boiled in Wren’s chest. They were wasting her time. She figured Rhett was getting her team’s story. Eventually, Rhett entered the room.

“So, you convinced the android and lieutenant to let you stay, but you didn’t tell the rest of your team about your identity until recently. I don’t know how you managed to convince Markus into letting you hang around after you tried to kill him.” He sat across from Wren.

“Prometheus sent me to do it. I deviated.”

Rhett snorted. “You’re not an android.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Rhett. You know how my programming works.”

Rhett narrowed his eyes. It was harder to read his expression under his beard. “You expect me to believe that Prometheus sent you to kill Markus? Come on, Cy. You can do better than that. You’re a master liar.”

Cold gripped Wren’s heart. “Rhett, I’m telling you the truth. How would I have gotten out of Prometheus to kill Markus anyway? I could never leave them without a mission. You know that.”

“No one gave you the mission to kill Markus, Cy.”

“Someone did!” Wren insisted. “Someone had the power to send me after Markus. When I failed, they didn’t send anyone after me to collect or terminate me because they couldn’t. It would’ve given them away. I’ve been in Detroit for nearly a year. Why would they send someone _now_? Why would they wait this long? Use your head, Rhett.”

“You’re suggesting a rogue agent,” said Rhett. “Let me guess: You think it’s Atlas Montgomery?”

“I know it is.”

“How?”

“I recognized his voice.”

Rhett laughed. “That’s it? That’s your evidence? Cy, come on. How stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Wren snapped. “Rhett, you know better than anyone how Prometheus wipes memories. How I never saw my supervisor. How much they _conditioned_ me. You’re right. Prometheus wouldn’t send me to kill Markus. They’d do anything to protect humanity, but killing Markus wouldn’t stop the Android Liberation Movement. And it would only cause a civil war. I was ordered to kill Markus by someone rogue. I deviated and faked my death. I’ve been trying to put the pieces together ever since. I only just figured out it was Atlas.”

“Because you recognized his voice? Seriously?” Rhett raised his eyebrows. “We worked that case together and he’s on TV a lot. You could’ve heard his voice from anywhere.”

“No, it triggered a memory,” said Wren. “A specific memory.”

“And… what?” Rhett shrugged. “That still doesn’t prove anything. And cyborgs don’t deviate. You’re not an android.”

Wren clenched her teeth. She glanced toward the observation glass. _Connor._ She met Rhett’s gaze. “Have Connor probe my memory. He can prove to you that I deviated. He can show you. Androids can download their memories to screens. He can download mine to his.”

Rhett frowned. He glanced toward the observation glass. He turned his gaze back to Wren. “What about Atlas? You still need more than just telling me about a memory.”

Wren blew out a breath. “I broke into his house.”

“You _what_?”

“You heard me,” Wren snapped. “I found evidence that he might be planning an attack. Have Connor probe my memory and show you. I deviated and I have proof that Atlas is the rogue agent.”

Rhett narrowed his eyes. He stood from the table and left the interrogation room. Wren worked her jaw as she waited. A few minutes ticked by and then Connor entered the interrogation room, followed by Rhett. Connor sat across from Wren. His brow creased.

“I…” He stopped and swallowed. His LED flashed yellow. He looked over his shoulder at Rhett, who folded his arms and stood in the corner of the room behind Connor. Connor twisted back to face Wren and leaned forward. “I don’t want to… to _violate_ you.”

Wren offered him a pained smile. “You’re not.” She extended her hand. “I can’t guide you to the right one. You… You have to find it yourself.”

Connor nodded. He pursed his lips. The lines around his mouth sharpened for a moment. The synthetic skin of his hand disappeared. He gripped Wren’s hand, forcing her synthetic skin to melt away. Electricity jolted between them. Wren screwed her eyes closed and gritted her teeth. She felt Connor’s presence in her coding. The electricity jolting through her circuits and wires thrilled through her body. Static memories flashed through her processor as Connor sought the proper memories. He withdrew as soon as he found the memories and recorded them in his own processor.

He released Wren, who gasped. Connor gazed at her for a moment, his mouth slightly open. He turned to Rhett. “I-I have the memories.”

Rhett pushed off from the wall. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Connor stood. “Wren left out a piece of vital information in her story.”

Wren frowned. “Connor…”

Connor ignored her as Rhett narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “I was with her when we broke in Atlas Montgomery’s house. I assume she didn’t tell you because she didn’t want to incriminate me, which I appreciate.” Connor glanced at her and offered her a twitch of his lips. He looked back at Rhett. “But I recorded the entire operation and streamed it to my terminal. It has everything we saw on there.”

Rhett looked between them for a moment. “Alright. Fine.”

They exited the interrogation room and left Wren alone.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Rhett did not return for another hour. He entered the interrogation room and Wren lifted her head from the table. Rhett sat down in front of her.

“Your memory of deviating was full of static because of all the transferring, but… I believe you. That android, Connor, is pretty adamant that you’re telling the truth. He says that Markus and North will attest to your deviancy as well. I’ll have to get their official statements, but…” He inhaled and folded his hands on top of the table. “I also saw the infiltration of Montgomery’s property. The illegal action of that aside, I agree that Montgomery is planning something. However, none of that proves that he is a rogue Prometheus agent. I know you were ordered to kill Markus, but right now, that just says Prometheus ordered you to do that, even if it doesn’t make sense for them to.”

Wren relaxed slightly. “Well, can I go, then?”

“No,” said Rhett. “You’re still under arrest.”

Wren frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because whether or not we agree with Prometheus’s actions, they’re still backed by the White House. They’re protecting national security, and if they order you to kill somebody, they have a reason for it. You’re still guilty of desertion.”

Nausea bubbled up Wren’s throat. She swallowed. “So, you’re going to do nothing to protect Markus?”

“Oh, I’ll stop Montgomery. I believe he’s acting independently. But you’re still going back to Prometheus.” Rhett stood and headed for the door. Wren’s heart crumpled. She clutched her chest and tried to breathe, but her throat closed. Tears welled in her eyes. As soon as Rhett left her alone, Wren broke into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter left and then we're on to part two! Thank you guys SO MUCH for your support for this story. You guys have kept me going in ways you don't even know!


	30. Chapter Thirty

**_Chapter Thirty_**  

 **Warning: Violence, anxiety, some slight NSFW (very mild but still nudity and stuff)**   

Wren jerked her head up when the door to the interrogation room slid open. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She blinked the bleariness from her eyes as Connor and Hank entered the room.

“Hey, kid,” said Hank, taking a seat across from her. “How are you holdin’ up?”

Wren cracked a smile. “I’m fantastic.”

Connor’s lips flattened, hardening the lines around his mouth. His forehead creased. “You’ve been crying.”

Wren closed her eyes as another wave swelled behind her eyes. She forced it down. “Rhett believes me about Atlas Montgomery.”

“Well, that’s good,” said Hank. “Means we can get you out of here soon.”

Wren opened her eyes but avoided both of their gazes. “He told me that Prometheus is still backed by the White House and that they still protect national security. He said that I’m still guilty of desertion.” She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed a whimper. “He said I’m going back to Prometheus.”

“That’s not happening,” Connor snapped. Wren looked at him as her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t know if we can stop it.”

“We’ll find a way, kid,” said Hank. He reached across the table and cupped his hands around one of Wren’s.

“You’re technically a deviant and we can _prove_ that,” said Connor. “That means that Prometheus shouldn’t have any legal hold over you.”

“I bet Markus knows an android lawyer or two who can help you out,” said Hank.

Wren furrowed her brow. “I could possibly go public with some of my information…”

Connor’s face relaxed. He crouched in front of her. He held Wren’s other hand. “I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Wren’s heart warmed. Before she could say anything, the door slid open and Gavin entered the room. He pressed his lips together in a grim smile.

“We’re moving her.”

Gavin strode over and detached Wren’s handcuffs from the table. She stood, her wrists still chained. Hank patted Wren’s back and walked with her, Gavin leading the way. Connor followed. Gavin led Wren to a holding cell. She suppressed a sigh as she entered it. Hank and Connor followed her inside.

Connor approached her and unlocked the handcuffs. He cradled her wrists for a moment. “They won’t take you.”

Wren met his gaze. Her throat swelled with a lump.

“Hey, uh, Captain Fowler wants to see you and Connor,” said Gavin to Hank.

“Alright,” Hank sighed. “C’mon Connor.”

Connor closed his eyes and his LED swirled yellow. Wren reached up to cup his face, saw the dried blood on her hands and then stopped. She lowered her gaze.

“I’ll be okay, Connor,” she murmured. He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead before following Hank out of the holding cell. The glass door slid shut, leaving Wren alone. She sighed and strode over to the sink. She observed herself in the mirror. Most of the blood stained her sleeves and hands, though an alarming quantity stained the front of her shirt. Flecks and streaks of it darkened her face. She smelled like rust with a faint hint of decay. Suppressing the urge to gag, she turned on the sink and scrubbed her hands clean. She stripped of her jacket, but she had to live with her shirt. As she scrubbed the dried blood from her hands and out from under her fingernails, someone knocked on the glass of her cell. She turned and shut off the water.

Chris stood at the door, holding a bundle of fabric. Wren approached the door and crossed her arms.

Chris smiled slightly. “You’re not gonna try to escape if I open this door, are you?”

“Not yet,” said Wren.

Chris opened the door and entered the cell. “Thought you might want to get out of those nasty clothes.” He held out the bundle.

Wren grabbed the folded clothes and blinked rapidly to hold back the tears pricking her eyes. She beamed at Chris. “Thank you.”

“No need to get so choked up about it,” said Chris, averting Wren’s gaze. But his lips twitched with a smile. He patted Wren’s shoulder. “This’ll all be over soon. Hang in there.”

Wren nodded. Chris left her in the cell. She peeled off her bloody shirt and picked up the one Chris gave her. It was just a DPD T-shirt, but Wren’s heart swelled. She pulled it on. The other article of clothing was a DPD sweatshirt. Wren put it on, too. The precinct was always cold, and it was even colder outside. Wren returned to the sink and washed her face, careful not to dampen the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She shut off the faucet and gripped the edges of the sink. Her eyes lifted to meet her reflection’s gaze.

She looked haunted. Shadows circled her eyes, and her lips looked chapped. Prometheus entered her mind again. Her cell at the DPD reminded her of the one she used to live in at Prometheus. Would she have to go back? Would she spend forever in chains?

Nausea bubbled up her throat. Wren dropped to her knees beside the toilet and vomited. Her body wrenched and tears slipped from her eyes. Her throat burned and her mouth tasted of stomach acid. She leaned against the toilet while sweat beaded on her forehead. She trembled and closed her eyes for a moment.

Once she could stand, she flushed the toilet. She rinsed out her mouth in the sink several times, even scrubbing her tongue with her fingers until she no longer tasted vomit. She turned off the faucet once more, shaking.

Later, Gavin brought her a toothbrush and toothpaste. He supervised her before taking it away. “No shanks for you.”

Wren rolled her eyes at him. She laid on the bed as the precinct shut its lights off. She choked with tears, which rolled past her temples and into her hair. What she wouldn’t give to be in Connor’s arms again…

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the morning, the door to her cell slid open and Rhett entered. Wren jumped out of bed and faced him with crossed arms.

“Well?”

Rhett put his hands in his pockets. “What’s with the hostility, Cy?” He pursed his lips for a moment and shook his head. “That’s not your name, is it? _Wren_.”

Wren lifted her chin. “Why am I hostile? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you arrested me—”

“You killed someone—”

“She forced me to stab her! You saw that in my memories—”

“Your hands still held the knife.”

“You interrogated me like I’m a fucking criminal—”

“You are!”

“And now you’ve got me locked up in a cell even though you believe me—”

“Because you deserted!”

“From a place that you tried to convince me to leave years ago!” Wren yelled.

Rhett curled his lip. His nostrils flared. “Yeah, and you chose to go back to them.”

“Because I was _scared_ ,” Wren seethed. “And every time I experienced a software instability, I got fucking electrocuted! I was terrified that if I left Prometheus, they’d kill me! But when they ordered me to kill Markus, I didn’t care if I died because I knew killing Markus was _wrong_.”

Rhett folded his arms. “How long have you known your name was Wren?”

Wren’s brow twitched. “What do you mean?”

“Even after deviating, you shouldn’t have known your name was Wren.”

Wren clenched her teeth for a moment. She lowered her gaze. “They tried their best to make me forget who I was. They almost succeeded. But… Every night, I would tell myself: My name is Wrenley, and I’m twenty-five years old. They asked me my name every day. Every time I told them it wasn’t CY001, they’d beat me or torture me… One day, they had enough. They locked me in a fucking box. They left me there for weeks, only opening it to feed me…” Wren trembled and tears jumped to her eyes. “I thought I was going to lose my mind in there. But I clung to _Wren_ because it was all I had. They conditioned me to feel pain every time I said my name was Isabella Blanchard. But I kept Wren to myself. They couldn’t take that from me.”

A tear dripped down Wren’s cheek as she lifted her head. Hank and Connor stood in the doorway of her cell. Rhett narrowed his eyes and parted his lips. Hank and Connor wore equally horrified expressions.

Rhett rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re going to secure Jericho and the android leaders. Thought you should know.”

Wren glanced at Hank and Connor before flicking her gaze back to Rhett. “What about Vernor Hall?”

“Just seeing a blueprint of the building isn’t enough for me to send a squad to investigate it. Besides, I don’t have the manpower. And attacking Vernor Hall doesn’t really fit a terrorist’s profile. You know that.” He exited the cell, pushing past Connor rather roughly.

Connor’s brow furrowed, his LED flickering. He turned to Wren and entered the cell. “We’re going with him.”

Wren nodded. She swallowed the sharp lump in her throat. “I figured.”

Hank inched toward her. “You never told us how you knew your name, kid.”

Wren smiled sadly. “You never asked.”

Hank’s brow crinkled. “I’m sorry, kid. You will never go back to Prometheus. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He pulled Wren into a hug. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped him tightly. He patted her back before withdrawing, his mouth quirking with a lopsided smile. He sidled out of the cell to give Wren and Connor a moment alone. Connor cupped her face.  

“When I get back, we will fight Prometheus with everything we’ve got.”

Wren nodded. She weaved her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. He held her close in return, leaning his cheek against her head. “Please be safe. Wear a Kevlar.”

“I will.”

They withdrew from their embrace. Connor kissed her lips lightly and then he was gone.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren paced her cell. Atlas was a terrorist, yes. But he fit the savior complex, too. He would want to make a statement with his attack, but one he believed was for the benefit of humanity. He wanted to get rid of androids, but just killing Markus wouldn’t do the trick because the Android Liberation Movement’s progress had surpassed even Markus. She couldn’t shake Allen Woodward and Vernor Hall.

Wren stopped pacing. If Atlas wanted to turn humans against androids, then it would require the androids _betraying_ humans. They would need to be violent towards humans, not other androids. Ice trickled through Wren’s blood.

She approached the cell door and banged on it. “Chris? Gavin? Tina! Somebody?” She hit the glass again. “I need to talk to you!”

An officer rounded the corner. “Back away from the glass.”

Wren held up her hands, palms forward. “Okay, okay. I need to talk to Detectives Miller, Reed, and Chen. It’s extremely important. Lives are in danger.”

The officer frowned. He backed away and disappeared for a few minutes. Wren bounced on the balls of her feet. Finally, Chris, Gavin, and Tina entered the holding cell hall.

“What’s up?” Chris asked.

“Montgomery’s planning on making a big statement—something that could endanger androids and set back their progress.”

“Yeah, dipshit, we know. That’s why your little CIA boyfriend took Hank and Connor to Jericho,” said Gavin, folding his arms.

Wren shook her head. “Jericho isn’t the target. Killing Markus won’t do anything to stall progress. It’ll just make him a martyr. Montgomery wants to turn humans against androids. He’s going to make these androids attack humans!”

“Okay, let’s say you’re right. What do we do about it?” Chris said.

Wren curled her hands into fists. “You have to let me out.”

“What? We can’t fucking do that,” Gavin hissed. “You’ll probably just run off.”

Chris lowered his gaze. “Wren… I don’t think we can let you out. I’m sorry. We can call Connor and Hank and tell them your theory—”

“Rhett isn’t going to listen and I can’t send Connor and Hank there alone,” said Wren. She turned to Tina, who avoided Wren’s gaze. Wren’s eyes filled with tears. “Tina, I know you have no reason to trust me, but… Everything was real. Our friendship, me and Connor… Please. We have too many androids in our lives who we care about for us to risk not doing something—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, I’m letting you out,” snapped Tina. She opened the cell door. Her brow puckered as Wren stepped into the hall.

“We saw your memories, too,” said Gavin. He swallowed. “It was fucked up.”

Wren’s lips twisted. “Yeah. You see why I wanted to get away from them?”

“Yeah,” said Gavin.

“What do you need us to do?” Chris queried, squaring his shoulders.

“We can come with you,” said Gavin.

“No, tell Connor and Hank. If I’m right, we’re going to need backup. I might be able to evacuate the building. But… I need to borrow someone’s ride. Preferably not a car.”

“Seriously?” Gavin scowled. Tina and Chris looked at him. Gavin rolled his eyes and fished his keys out of his pocket. “If you scratch up my bike, I will personally blow your fuckin’ brains out.”

“Noted,” Wren replied, taking the keys.

Chris shrugged off his DPD jacket. “It’s cold out there.”

Wren smiled and put it on. “Okay. Get ready to send backup to Vernor Hall. Make sure that Markus and Jericho are secure, first. I don’t want to be wrong about him not being a target.” She turned to hurry away, but Tina caught her.

“Hey, um… Don’t get yourself killed, okay? It would be pretty boring being the only woman here.”

Wren softened. “Love you too, Tina.”

Tina pursed her lips and pulled Wren into a hug. Wren squeezed her friend, her heart twisting in her chest. She pulled away, offered Tina a small smile and rushed out of the precinct and into the parking garage.

She found Gavin’s motorcycle easily and hopped on it. Wren cranked the bike and peeled out of the garage.

**|Calculating route . . . Route calculated|**

Wren veered left. She revved Gavin’s bike and sped through traffic. She weaved around cars, earning her a few middle fingers and angry shouts from other drivers. She stuck out her leg as she whipped to the right. She sped even faster down a straight road. The meeting at Vernor Hall was scheduled for four o’clock. Her internal clock told her she had about thirty minutes. She sped faster, weaving in and out of traffic. As she descended a hill, she caught so much speed that when she reached the top, she caught air. Gavin’s bike tires slammed the ground. Wren grimaced.

“Sorry, Gavin… probably wasn’t good for your tires.”

She continued speeding along, following the route her processor calculated. At last, she arrived at Vernor Hall. She parked Gavin’s bike and dismounted it. She wished she’d brought a gun.

Wren entered Vernor Hall and found Allen Woodward’s reserved room. She committed the layout to memory and then found the stairs to the sub-level of the building. Hiding androids disguised as bombs was not as easy as just planting a bomb in the scaffolding or ventilation system. She entered the basement level and crept in the dim light, her eyes scanning for androids. But the vast room seemed empty, save for storage shelves and supplies.

Then, a body dropped on Wren. She crumpled to the ground as the person’s boots pinned her to the floor. Wren twisted and the person stumbled. They tried to kick Wren in the face, but she whipped back. She used both legs to kick her attacker in the stomach. They both jumped to their feet and Wren squinted in the dark. Her opponent was a woman, and Wren assumed it was another cyborg.

The cyborg grabbed Wren’s wrist, but Wren lurched forward, forcing the other cyborg’s grip to loosen. The cyborg swept her foot under Wren’s legs, knocking both of them to the floor. The cyborg straddled Wren and grabbed her by the throat. Wren shifted and elbowed the cyborg’s elbow outward, knocking her grip loose. Wren rolled on top of her attacker, who punched her squarely in the mouth. Wren fell back and tasted blood. The cyborg kicked, but Wren jumped back and to her feet. The cyborg grabbed a handful of Wren’s hair. Wren grabbed the cyborg’s hand with both of her and ducked and twisted so that the cyborg’s arm twisted. Wren elbowed that twisted arm. The cyborg released Wren with a grunt.

They faced each other, panting. Wren held up her fists to block her face. She jabbed, but the cyborg blocked. The cyborg punched, but Wren blocked. Punch, jab, block. Wren kicked the cyborg’s knee and she stumbled back. Punch, jab, block. The cyborg kicked Wren in the stomach, crashing her into the wall. Wren wheeled around and kicked the cyborg in the stomach. Wren lunged for another punch, but the cyborg elbowed her in the chest. She gasped, but still tried to punch. The cyborg caught Wren’s arm by twisting her leg around Wren’s arm and rolling to the ground. Wren managed to punch the cyborg, not really aiming for anywhere in particular. The cyborg used both feet to kick Wren away. Wren rolled to her feet and grabbed a storage shelf. She pulled it down on top of the cyborg with an earsplitting crash.

The cyborg groaned, stuck underneath the shelf save for her head. Wren perched on top of it, crushing the other cyborg.

“Where are the bombs?” Wren yelled.

The cyborg flashed Wren a bloody smile. “You think he’d stick to his original plan once you figured it out?”

“Then why are you here?” Wren snapped.

“Well, I would’ve been the one to kidnap the RK800, but it seems 04 got that chance…”

The color melted from Wren’s face. She jumped from the storage shelf and dragged the cyborg out from under the storage shelf. Her synthetic skin peeled away, and Wren grabbed the cyborg’s wrist to probe her memory.

She viewed flashes of memory with no audio, but Wren knew where to go. She punched the cyborg in the face, hard. The cyborg slid down to the floor, unconscious. Wren picked the handcuffs out of the cyborg’s pocket and cuffed her to the storage unit.  

Atlas Montgomery changed his plan, and now, he had Connor.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The first thing Wren noticed about Montgomery’s estate was the lack of guards. She entered through the front door with no trouble. Tension squeezed her shoulders.

_Will you walk into my parlor? said the spider to the fly._

Wren shivered as she stepped into the living room area. She narrowed her eyes. She knew how to get to the lab, but she failed to explore the other section of the house last time. She veered left, toward where a kitchen and dining room would be located. However, as soon as she stepped through the doorway, she stopped.

In the center of the vast room sat a table with a massive computer. Next to it stood a machine that Wren recognized, one that sent chills down her spine. Two chairs sat beside the table. Connor sat in one of the chairs, his hands handcuffed behind his back. Blue blood dribbled from his nose and past his lips. His eyes widened a fraction as Wren entered the room, but he remained oddly still. Atlas turned from the computer and his lips fanned into a grin. Wren’s heart twisted sharply. A male cyborg stood with a gun pressed to Connor’s temple.

“Hands where I can see them!” barked the cyborg.

Atlas sneered. “Oh, she’ll behave, won’t she? She wouldn’t want us to hurt her little boyfriend, would she?”

Wren gritted her teeth and lifted her hands, palms forward. “Where are all your guards?”

“I gave them the day off,” said Atlas. “No sense in wasting so many human lives. What happened to 05?”

“Took care of her.”

Atlas hummed. “Well, I figured RK800 here would either go to Jericho or Vernor Hall, so I had 04 and 05 waiting. But, it seems you got there first. Anyway, this makes this all so much easier.” He turned and pointed an odd-looking gun at Wren. He pulled the trigger, though nothing visible shot out of the barrel. But Wren’s cybernetics ceased mobile functionality. She collapsed to the floor like a noodle. Connor’s eyes watched her fall. Wren understood: Connor wasn’t moving because he _couldn’t_. A low whimper hummed in Connor’s throat.

04 walked over and grabbed Wren. He dragged her to the chair, lifted her into it, and then cuffed her hands behind her back.

“Handy, isn’t it?” Atlas said. “It’s a prototype, but it was specifically designed to disable androids without destroying them. The effects aren’t permanent, but it made 04’s job of capturing RK800 easier.”

Wren tightened her jaw.

“What now, sir?” queried 04.

“Bring the RK800 here,” said Atlas. Wren struggled to move, but her cybernetic limbs refused to obey.

04 removed Connor’s handcuffs and dragged him to the machine next to the computer. Wren recognized it as the same machine Zlatko used, the same machine that Prometheus used on her, to wipe memories. Her heart jumped to her throat.

“ _No_ …”  

She clenched her teeth, trying to force herself to move. Nothing happened. She could only watch as Atlas and 04 forced Connor’s hands into the contraption. He dangled there, limp and expressionless, except for his flashing red LED. His eyes flicked to hers, bright and feverish. Her heartbeat fluttered in her throat and she felt it in her fingertips. Wren tried again to move. Her fingers twitched and her heart leaped.

“Leave him out of this, please! Do what you want with me, but let Connor go. He has _nothing_ to do with this!” she yelled.

Atlas turned to the computer. “Don’t lie, 01. You can’t lie to us. Connor has everything to do with this.”

“Because I dragged him into all of this! Please, don’t punish him for what I’ve done,” Wren begged.

Atlas clucked his tongue. “So narcissistic… You think this is about you? No, this is a grander scheme. I wasn’t able to grab Markus because you tipped off that stupid CIA agent, but I was able to grab Connor. Or, 02 was. Just think: one of the leaders of Jericho attacking androids’ biggest ally… Anyone on the fence about whether they support androids or not will make their decision against androids. If androids attack their own allies, who is safe?”

Wren swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Atlas turned to Connor and unbuttoned his shirt. Atlas felt along Connor’s chest and stopped at the center. Atlas gripped the edges of Connor’s thirium pump regulator and twisted it. Connor groaned.

Tears sprang to Wren’s eyes. “Please…”

Atlas yanked Connor’s regulator out. Connor grunted and his eyelids flickered. His body jerked involuntarily. Wren struggled to free herself, but her body still refused to cooperate effectively. Atlas set Connor’s thirium pump regulator on the desk and grabbed a different regulator. Wren narrowed her eyes at it, still struggling to get her hands to move. This regulator, Wren realized, had been weaponized. It was a bomb, and Atlas stuck it in Connor’s chest.

Connor grunted and seemed to stabilize. His lips parted as he looked at Wren. She tried to move her arms. This time, her hands jerked.

“Now, to take control of Connor’s program, I need to wipe his memories and erase his deviancy,” Atlas hummed. He typed on the computer and 04 plugged a wire into the back of Connor’s neck. The monitor showed a loading bar.

**|Reset: 1% Complete|**

Wren wiggled her fingers. She tried moving her toes. Her eyes watched 04, who stood in front of her, watching her.

“What are you going to do with me?” she demanded.

“Well, it’d be a waste to kill you. You’ve now managed to best two cyborgs more advanced than you. We’ll work on resetting you. Wiping memories on a cyborg is always more difficult than on an android, and now that you’re deviant…” Atlas shrugged. “Well, if it doesn’t work, then I’ll just kill you.”

Wren’s eyes flicked to the monitor.

**|Reset: 9% Complete|**

Wren glanced toward Atlas again. She flexed her fingers. “You sent me to kill Markus, didn’t you?”

Atlas smirked at her. “I knew there was a risk in sending you directly to him. I wanted to see if you’d succeed, but you were the most expendable of my squadron of cyborgs. You’re the first model, after all. Prometheus has made improvements since your debut. I expected you to die. And for a while, I thought you had.”

**|Reset: 21% Complete|**

An ache flashed through Wren’s veins. She glanced at Connor, who grimaced. He seemed to be trying to struggle against his restraints. Wren looked at the cyborg. He held the android disabling gun. Atlas stood with his back to her, watching the monitor. She needed to act fast, and she needed to grab the gun first. Her legs were not restrained, at least. She popped her thumb out of place and slid her hand out of the handcuff without moving her arm. She held the cuffs to keep the metal from clinking.

Wren kicked 04’s knee as hard as she could. She jumped from her seat, her limbs still feeling a little slow. But she managed to grab the android disabling gun from 04, who was still dazed from her sudden attack. She shot the cyborg. He crumpled to the floor and Wren launched the gun at the wall, damaging it.

Atlas grabbed Wren from behind. She elbowed his side and twisted out of his hold. She faced him and he immediately threw a punch. Wren blocked, but Atlas continued trying to punch her. He showed more skill in fighting than Wren expected, but he never received the level of training that Wren did. She blocked his punches.

**|Reset: 65% Complete|**

Wren kicked a chair toward Connor. He used it as leverage while Wren fought off Atlas. She kicked his knee. While the cyborgs could not feel pain in the areas of their body that were replaced with machines, Atlas was fully human. The force behind Wren’s kick resulted in a sickening crack and a cry from Atlas. He dropped, clutching his leg.

Connor dropped to the floor from the machine and let out a moan.

Wren punched Atlas in the side of the head, and he slumped. She ran to the desk and grabbed Connor’s thirium pump regulator. She knelt beside Connor. He wrenched out the weaponized regulator. Wren plunged Connor’s thirium pump regulator into his chest. He gasped and his body jerked.

Wren huffed, and her heart’s frantic beating slowed to a steady hammer. Connor panted as he sat up. Wren’s gaze softened as she regarded him. They stood, both a little out of breath. Connor grabbed the key to Wren’s handcuffs and removed the one still chained to her left wrist. She popped her thumb back into place.

“We need to find a detonator.”

Connor nodded and turned to the monitor. Wren walked over to Atlas, who groaned and spat out a mouthful of blood. Wren crouched beside him and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.

“Where’s the detonator?”

Atlas chuckled. “Fuck you.”

Wren punched him. A tooth flew from Atlas’s mouth. She gripped him tighter. “Where is the detonator?”

Atlas spat a blood in Wren’s face. She punched Atlas so hard he fell over, unconscious. She walked over to Connor, who straightened from searching 04.

“We should check the lab,” Connor said.

Wren nodded. They left the room and crossed through the living room. They entered Atlas’s office and opened the door to the lab. Wren led the way down the steps. She flipped on the light and gasped. All of the androids—including the RK900—were gone.

“I doubt all of them have been weaponized. Either he moved them to a secondary location or he sold them,” Connor muttered, walking around the lab. His LED flickered yellow.

Wren strode to the filing cabinet. “Let’s see if we can find something in the blueprints.”

They sorted through files and blueprints until Connor snapped a folder shut. “The bombs are timed. There’s no detonator, and there’s no way for us to stop them—” He stopped and grabbed Wren, pinning her against the wall. A gunshot sounded and Connor grunted. Thirium splattered Wren. She widened her eyes at the hole in Connor’s shoulder. She noticed movement at the other end of the lab, grabbed Connor by his shirt and pulled him down with her to the floor as more gunshots sounded. Wren grabbed a tray that held what looked like surgical tools on it and tossed it in 04’s direction. She charged toward him, jumped and tucked her legs in, then kicked 04 in the face with both feet. She rolled away as 04 tried to regain his composure. Wren kicked the gun away while 04 grabbed her by the throat.

Connor tackled 04, who whipped out a hunting knife. While 04 slashed at Connor, Wren hurried around the cyborg. She crawled up his back like a spider and wrapped her legs around his neck. She used her body to pull 04 to the floor and choked him with her legs.

“Go! Get Montgomery!” Wren yelled.

Connor froze in the doorway before leaving her in the lab, his LED spinning red. Then, he picked up the gun and took off.

Wren’s distraction provided 04 with an opportunity to kick her off of him. She rolled back to her feet and stood. 04 slashed his hunting knife and Wren threw up her arms to block. The knife cut threw her forearms. 04 jabbed and Wren twisted, but the knife slashed her side, in between two of her ribs. Her skin stung, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins allowed her to continue fighting. 04 slashed and punched with the knife, but Wren dodged his attacks and kicked him in the stomach. He stumbled back and Wren jumped and kicked 04 in the face. He slammed into the wall and tried to stab Wren as soon as she landed. She caught his wrist and twisted it. She kicked 04 in the crotch. He doubled over with a grunt and his grip on the knife slackened. Wren grabbed and jabbed 04 in the throat with it.

04 gripped his neck, blood spurting over his hands. Wren twisted and then yanked the knife out of 04’s neck. Blood gushed out, and 04 slipped to the floor. Wren eyed him for several seconds, clenching the knife in her hand before running out of the room. She ran up the stairs and through Atlas’s office, up the stairs to the upper level and searched each room. She frowned, not seeing Connor or Atlas in any of the rooms. Instead, at the end of the hall, she found a steel door. Wren opened it and widened her at the steel-lined stairwell leading up to the roof. She hurried up the stairs and burst onto the roof, where Connor stood with his back to her, pointing the gun at Atlas, who stood at the edge of the roof, arms outspread.

Police sirens sounded in the distance. A news helicopter circled around them. Wren widened her eyes. All the media saw was an android pointing a gun at a senator, an android ally. Wren placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“Don’t.”

Atlas grinned at Connor as he lowered the gun, his nose crinkling.  

“You’re too late,” Atlas murmured. “They’re already here.”

Wren furrowed her brow. A few androids—ones with weaponized thirium pump regulators—stepped onto the roof from the stairwell. Wren watched them march toward Atlas. She had no idea where they came from, or how to stop them. Her heart slammed in her chest. Connor holstered the gun and wheeled toward Wren.

“We gave to go!” he yelled. He grabbed Wren by the hand and they ran into the stairwell. Connor shut the door right as the androids exploded.

The steel stairwell managed to protect Wren and Connor from the initial blast somewhat, but the minor shockwave knocked them off their feet and they tumbled down the stairs. Connor fell on top of Wren in the hall. The section of the ceiling where Atlas and the androids once stood had been blasted apart, save for the stairwell. It seemed the thirium pump regulator bombs were not drastic enough to cause immense damage to the house, but there was nothing left of Atlas or the androids. Wooden beams crashed down and ruptured electrical wiring within the house. The wood of the house caught flame. Connor grabbed Wren’s hand as smoke wafted up to them. Wren covered her mouth and nose. Connor hurried with her down the hall and to the main staircase. Wren glanced up, her eyes stinging.

The ceiling was on fire from the heat of the blast. Black smoke blocked the sky. The fire from the ceiling spread to the walls, whipping the air with heat. Sweat beaded on Wren’s forehead and she forced herself to look ahead as they descended the stairs. Connor glanced toward the ceiling and grabbed Wren. He wrenched her forward and threw his body over hers as debris crashed toward them. The debris landed on Connor’s left leg.

“Ah!”

Wren scrambled out from under him. She pushed the debris off of Connor, grimacing with the effort. The heat of the debris singed her hands, forcing some of the synthetic fluid to retreat. She shoved the chunk of ceiling aside. Connor twisted to look back at his leg. His LED swirled red. Wren glanced at his leg and her heart dropped. From the knee down, his leg was crushed. His jeans were tattered and burned.

“My leg isn’t functional,” he stammered. He looked at Wren with parted lips and wide eyes. “I can’t walk.”

Wren flinched as somewhere behind her, something crashed in flames. “It’s okay, we’ll be okay…”

“Go without me,” Connor urged.

Wren glowered. “What the fuck? No, I’m _not_ leaving you here!”

She crouched beside him and looped his arm over her shoulders. She stood, and Connor helped to the best of his ability. They hobbled forward. Wren’s eyes stung. She tried to blink the smoke out of her eyes, but tears leaked past her lashes. Smoke burned her throat and filled her lungs. She coughed as she bore much of Connor’s weight.

“Wren, you’re inhaling too much smoke. I’m only slowing you down.”

“Shut up,” Wren coughed. “I’m not fucking leaving you.” She drew in a ragged, strained breath. “Crouch down. We have to crawl.” She laid on the floor with him. They pulled themselves along the floor with their elbows. Connor jerked Wren out of the way of some falling debris. She couldn’t breathe and she could barely see. Her body slowed. Connor gripped the back of her jacket.

“Come on, we’re almost out!”

Wren pulled with her arms, dragging herself toward the door. She shrugged off her jacket and grimaced as it pulled on her fresh cuts and bruises. She forced herself to stand and wrapped the jacket around the doorknob and pushed the door open. Crouching, she supported Connor and they shambled out of the burning house and into the snow. Wren collapsed on the ground and wheezed.

Connor’s hand found hers. “Are you okay?”

Wren closed her eyes. “Yeah.”

“We need to get further from the house.”

Wren rolled over and shouldered Connor once more. They limped several yards away from the house; Connor left a trail of thirium behind them. Wren dropped to her knees and laid Connor on his back. She looked at his leg and her heart lurched. She wanted to vomit. Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She bowed her head.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” she breathed. Connor pulled her close and she buried her face in his chest.

“I’m not going to die… I’m okay…” Connor’s voice hummed through his chest. Wren lifted her head as Connor sat up. He thumbed her cheek and his LED circled yellow. A black SUV and two patrol cars pulled up to the house. An ambulance followed.

Hank jumped out of the first patrol car and ran over to them. “Connor! Wren! Are you guys okay?”

He knelt in the snow beside them.

Connor glanced at his leg. “I will need a replacement.”

Hank’s face paled at the sight of Connor’s mangled leg. He turned to Wren and looked her over. His brow furrowed. “You’re bleeding, kid.”

Wren touched her side and drew back her fingers. Blood coated them. Connor’s mouth fell open and his LED flashed red. Wren clutched her side and winced. The adrenaline wore off a little. “It’s not deep. Just long.”

Gavin, Tina, and Chris exited the second patrol car. Gavin and Chris hung back but Tina dropped beside Wren and threw her arms around Wren’s neck.

“Oh my God, we found that cyborg at Vernor Hall and then we heard the news and we thought we were gonna be too late!”

Wren blinked and then hugged Tina close. She squeezed her eyes shut. “We’re okay.”

Tina withdrew, her eyelashes wet with tears. She withdrew. Blood splotched her jacket. She glanced at it, and then lifted her gaze to Wren. She turned to the ambulance. “We need a medic over here!”

Rhett crouched beside Wren. “You okay?”

“I’ve had worse.”

Rhett cracked a smile. “Yeah, I know.” His smile faltered. “We need to talk later.”

Wren’s throat dried. She jerked a nod and turned back to Hank and Connor, who both narrowed their eyes at Rhett. They never looked more like father and son.

A paramedic walked over. He helped Wren stand. She glanced at Connor. “He needs help, too.”

The paramedic looked at Connor, then waved his android partner over. As the short-haired android walked toward Connor, bag in hand, Connor widened his eyes.

“Traci?”

The former Traci model smiled as she squatted beside Connor’s leg. “Actually, I go by Rose now.”

Connor looked at Hank, who beamed. Wren lifted a brow, but allowed the human paramedic to walk her over to the ambulance. She sat inside it while the paramedic shined a light in her eyes. He placed an oxygen mask over Wren’s mouth and nose.

“How long were you in the fire? Use your fingers.”

Wren held up five fingers. She shrugged to indicate that the three minutes was an estimation. It had probably been more like seven. The paramedic indicated for Wren to lift her hoodie and jacket. She did so, revealing her cut and bruises from her multiple fights. Her lip throbbed and parts of her face ached. She wouldn’t be surprised if she couldn’t move later.

The paramedic knelt and began cleaning her knife wound. She hissed at the burn of disinfectant. The paramedic placed a bandage over it and stood. “You’ll need a few stitches, but it’s not too serious.”

Wren let her shirt drop down. She looked around, still breathing through the oxygen mask. Tina walked over to the ambulance.

“Hank and Connor are headed to CyberLife Tower.”

Wren’s heart jumped and she moved the oxygen mask. “They’re taking me to the hospital. I need a few stitches.”

Tina dipped her head. “Well, as soon as you’re cleared, I can take you to Hank and Connor.”

Wren nodded. Tina turned to leave. Wren bit her lip for a moment, and then called after Tina, “Will you ride with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

Tina turned and her expression softened. “Yeah. Sure.”

The paramedic glanced down at her. “That’s not really allowed…”

“Dude,” said Tina, climbing into the back of the ambulance, “she’s had a rough few days.”

“I spent two nights in jail, got kicked out of my house, nearly got blown up…” Wren shrugged.

The paramedic sighed. “Alright, fine. Rose! Let’s go!” He hopped out of the back of the ambulance and climbed in the front. Rose slid into the passenger side, leaving Tina and Wren alone in the back.

Tina sat across from Wren. “We did what you said, you know. We sent backup to Vernor Hall. Hank called us to tell us that they couldn’t find Connor. We found that cyborg at Vernor Hall. Rhett arrested her. We tried getting her to talk, but… We were having no luck. We needed an android’s help, so Josh probed her memory. And then the news started reporting that a few androids were marching up to an estate of Montgomery’s in protest. While we were driving there, we watched how Connor was about to shoot Montgomery and you stopped him and then…” Tina swallowed. Her eyes reddened as tears filled her eyes. “Those androids grabbed Montgomery and just… _exploded_. We all thought that you and Connor were dead.”

Wren cracked a smile. It pulled at the split in her lip and she tasted blood anew. Tina pulled out a tissue and passed it to Wren, who nursed her bleeding lip. “We got lucky. Very lucky. The stairwell was made of steel and on the other side of the roof, so… We weren’t right next to the blast or anything.”

“Yeah, the three androids together made up a nice-sized blast, but alone… They weren’t very formidable bombs.”

“I don’t think they were meant to be. Or maybe they didn’t perfect the technique. I don’t know.”

Tina nodded. She offered Wren a twitch of her lips. “I’m really sorry. About everything. About how I treated you, and kicked you out—”

“It’s okay,” Wren murmured. “I know all of this is a lot to wrap your head around. It took Hank forever to trust me. Remember how we worked that stalker case, and I wasn’t there to stakeout with you?”

Tina smiled slightly. “Oh yeah, and I was super pissed.”

“Yeah, Hank wasn’t letting me leave the house. He never wanted me out of his or Connor’s sight.”

Tina raised her eyebrows. “No way.”

“Yeah, and I tried sneaking out of the house to come help you, but Connor caught me. He tackled me in the yard.”

Tina grinned. “So you were on house arrest, then?”

“Basically.”

“How’d Hank start to trust you?”

“After I risked my life to save a victim. He saw I was trying to turn over a new leaf.”

“I thought I felt some tension between the three of you…” Tina trailed off, grinning. “I just never imagined it’d be all this.”

Wren’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Yeah.” She lowered the bloodied tissue from her lip. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to, but this isn’t an easy topic to bring up. I wanted to protect you guys, but I was also being selfish. I didn’t want our friendship to change. I didn’t want you to look at me any differently.”

Tears dripped down Tina’s cheeks. She leaned forward and extended a hand. Wren grasped her friend’s hand, and her throat swelled with emotion. Pressure built behind her eyes. Tina smiled, despite her tear streaks. “Listen, I was angry because you know me… I’m stupidly loyal. I felt a little betrayed because I thought we told each other everything, but… I understand, Wren. And now I know the truth. You’re like family to me. I love you.”

The tears welled in Wren’s eyes and spilled over. “I love you, too.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As soon as the doctor cleared Wren to leave, she and Tina headed for the CyberLife Tower. Her stomach quivered the whole way, and by the time she rode the elevator down to sublevel seventeen, her stomach twisted itself into knots. Her breath quickened and she tried to control it as she walked toward the room Hank texted Tina.

Wren burst inside the room. The dark navy floor caught the reflection of everything standing directly upon it. A long, steel table sat in the middle of the room. Large machines with arms and tools attached to the ends stood on either side of the table. Hank leaned against the left wall with folded arms while Elijah Kamski stood to the right of Connor, who paced back and forth, testing out his new leg.

Connor turned when Wren entered the room. His LED flashed yellow for a second. His lips pulled into a soft, crooked smile. Wren’s anxiety melted. She staggered toward him, exhaustion crashing over her. She hugged him, and he wrapped his arms around her. His head rested against hers.

“Are you alright?”

Wren nodded into Connor’s chest, gripping his jacket tightly. He squeezed her before pulling back to examine her face. His LED swirled yellow as he took in the bruises, split lip and overall bloodiness. His lips pressed together, and the lines around his mouth hardened. Wren kissed the hollow of his cheek.

“I’m okay,” she murmured. “Nothing too serious.”

“Doc cleared you? You didn’t escape, did you?” Hank said, sauntering over to them.

“Yes, he cleared me,” Wren rolled her eyes. “Tina was there.”

“Alright, I believe you.” Hank’s lips tugged with a smile. Wren hugged him. He held her for a moment before patting her back.

Wren withdrew and sniffed. She turned to Kamski. “Thank you for your hint.”

He smirked and tilted his head. “You’re welcome. I’m no fan of these Titans. But you still have more to go.”

Wren’s heart dropped and the color leaked from her face. She swallowed. “Prometheus won’t win.”

Kamski narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “Prometheus isn’t the only one.” He turned to Connor and smiled. “Let me know if you experience any malfunctions.” He strode out of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, the soles of his shoes clicking against the hard, glossy floor.

Hank raised his eyebrows and turned to Wren. “You wanna grab something to eat? You look about ready to pass out.”

Wren placed a hand over her stomach. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

The three of them walked out of the room and down the hall, only to find Rhett waiting for them by the elevator. Rhett lifted his chin in greeting.

“Wren.” He blocked the entrance to the elevator. Connor and Hank tensed beside Wren. She merely crossed her arms.

“Rhett.”

“You know what’s gotta happen,” said Rhett. “An agent from Prometheus will be here in two days to take you.”

“She’s not going back,” snapped Connor.

Rhett scowled at Connor. “That’s not your choice.”

“But it’s mine,” said Wren. “And I am not going back to that hellhole.”

“It isn’t your choice,” said Rhett. “You deserted—”

“We’re not at war!” Wren snapped.

“It’s still desertion,” replied Rhett. “They’re not gonna execute you.”

“Taking me back there will basically be a death sentence, Rhett,” hissed Wren. She clenched her teeth for a moment. “You know what? Let them come for me. I’m going to fight them with everything that I have. So you and Prometheus can _fuck off_. You’re in our way.”

Rhett pursed his lips but stepped aside. “You’re making a mistake, Wren.”

Wren ignored him, but she couldn’t ignore the nausea in her stomach.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren stepped into the shower and let the hot water run down her back. She avoided letting her stitches get too wet. The water pooling at her feet turned brownish red as blood washed away. Wren scrubbed her hands cleans. She took gentler care of her face, but rinsed her hair with shampoo. She leaned her head back, allowing water to stream through her hair. She sighed and shut off the water once all the soap and blood washed away. She grabbed a towel and patted herself dry, wincing at the parts of her body that ached from fighting. She wrapped the towel around her and stepped into her bedroom (which Tina so graciously offered back to Wren).

Wren tucked her hair behind her ear and froze, seeing a pair of familiar shoes. Her gaze lifted to meet Connor’s. He stood by the closed door, his eyes wide.

“I—Tina said—I’m sorry.”

Wren stared at him for a few seconds, taking in his haggard appearance. He wore new clothes, but soot and thirium covered his face. Rubble, dust, and soot covered his hair. Wren bet that underneath the new clothes provided to him by CyberLife, he was filthy.

“It’s fine, I just didn’t know you were coming over.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “If you don’t want me here—”

“Of course I want you here.”

Connor relaxed. “I assumed that after what we went through… I didn’t want you to be alone.” He lowered his gaze and his LED flickered yellow. “I didn’t want to be alone, either.”

The corners of Wren’s mouth twitched. She held out a hand. “Come on, you need a shower.”

Connor nodded. He took Wren’s hand, though he frowned. “You just got out of the shower, though.”

Wren pressed her lips together for a moment. “Yeah…”

“I can shower on my own.”

Wren looked at him. “Do you want to?”

Connor’s lips parted. His LED flashed. “No.”

“Okay then,” said Wren. She returned to her foggy bathroom and started up the hot water in the shower. She turned to see Connor undressing. She turned away and let her towel drop before getting back into the shower. After a moment, Connor joined her.

As presumed, Connor was filthy. Soot, dirt, blood, thirium… The cleanest part on his body was his new leg, which looked exactly like his old one. Wren peered down at it.

“Did they find a compatible leg from another model or…?”

“There were RK800 spare parts in one of the warehouses,” Connor replied. He lifted his head. The water dampened his hair, flattening the lock that usually hung in front of forehead. “As much as I believe that I’m alive, sometimes the idea of spare parts reminds me that I wasn’t always… And that I’m _not_ human.”

Wren furrowed her brow. “There’s nothing wrong with spare parts. Humans replace organs all the time. I mean…” She held up her right hand. The synthetic skin melted away. “I’m _alive_ because of spare parts.”

Connor pressed his lips to the palm of her hand. “I’m very grateful for that.”

“I wasn’t always grateful for it,” Wren replied, watching her synthetic skin cover the white plastic. She lifted her head. “And you wear an LED. If you were trying to appear more human…?”

“I wear my LED because it helps people read my emotions better,” said Connor.

Wren tilted her head. “I knew that. But… Why do you care?”

“When people aren’t able to read my emotions, I feel… less alive.”

Wren wrapped her arms around Connor’s neck. “Sweetheart, most people have a hard time reading other humans’ emotions. Besides, I’m sure Hank and I are decent at reading your facial expressions, LED or no LED.”

Connor leaned his head toward her. “Part of me likes it, though. I’m not ashamed to be an android.”

“Good,” said Wren. She kissed the corner of his mouth and withdrew. “Alright, let’s get you clean.” She grabbed a loofa and squirted soap onto it. Then, she rubbed it along Connor’s chest. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned his head back. Wren continued washing away the grime. When she finished, she moved Connor under the stream of the water. Wren turned Connor around and worked on his back. Her fingers drifted along a section of skin that appeared tauter and slightly puckered.

“Is this where he shot you?”

“Yes,” Connor murmured. “Kamski says there shouldn’t be much of a mark, though they did have to cauterize it.”

Wren closed her eyes and then pressed her lips to the mark. Connor shuddered. He turned toward her; his eyes seemed heavily lidded. His lips touched hers, though he kept the kiss chaste. His fingers traced the bruises shadowing her cheekbones, the split in her lip, the cut on her forehead. Then ran his hands down her arms and examined where the knife slashed her forearms. The doctor treated her well enough. He told her the marks on her arms would fade with time. Her palms, however, bore faint marks forever. She burned herself moving debris off of Connor, and while synthetic skin patches fixed much of the burn, the damage proved severe enough to leave a faint mark on her palms. Connor kissed both marks. His eyes traveled down to her side, where she suffered the knife slash. His fingers brushed the stitches. Wren winced, and Connor’s eyes flashed to hers.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“It didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

Connor rested his hands on Wren’s hips. “We shouldn’t do anything that’ll disturb your stitches.”

“Yeah,” Wren murmured. She rested her head on Connor’s chest. He held her close. Their hips remained close together. Wren pulled back after a moment. “Let’s wash your hair.”

Connor stooped so that Wren could lather his hair and scrub it clean. He rinsed the soap out. Wren watched him, her eyes roving over his toned chest, down to the V of his hips. Her eyes traveled back up to his face. He looked peaceful with his eyes closed as he ran his hands through his hair, water creating rivers down his body. If Wren weren’t so exhausted, she would _want_ him.

Once Connor was clean, Wren turned off the water and hopped out of the shower. She wrapped her towel around herself and handed a clean one to Connor. He wrapped it around his waist after patting himself dry. Wren returned to her room and dressed into pajamas. Connor knelt beside a duffle bag. Wren’s lips twitched when he withdrew sweatpants and a T-shirt. She averted her eyes as he dressed and worked on drying her hair with the towel. She avoided looking in a mirror. She knew she looked bad.

Wren and Connor crawled into bed as Wren turned on the TV. “You know, we still have a few movies on our list.”

Connor smiled. “We still haven’t watched _A New Hope_.”

Wren grinned, feeling lighter than she had in many days. “ _Star Wars_ it is.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next day, Rhett showed up at Wren’s door while Connor and the others returned to work. Wren answered the door, saw Rhett, and tried to slam the door in his face. He caught the door with his hand.

“Really? You’re going to be a child about this?”

“Prometheus will have to take me, kicking and screaming,” said Wren.

“I came to talk to you about that, actually,” said Rhett, entering Wren’s house without permission. “Have you bugged the place?”

“No,” Wren scowled.

“Good, because what I’m about to talk to you about is highly confidential,” said Rhett, facing Wren with his hands in his pockets. Wren shut the front door.

“Okay…”

“Look, the reality is, Prometheus isn’t going to let you go. You know too much, and you’ve told too many people too much information.”

Wren worked her jaw before answering. “I told you that I could come forward with my information. They’ve done some shady shit—”

“Not shady enough,” snapped Rhett. “Yeah, you could fight this out with them. I bet Markus, North, and Josh could find you an amazing lawyer. But Prometheus still has government backing. They’re still powerful and you know it. You could fight this in court with them. You might even win. But that doesn’t mean they’ll leave you alone. That’s just _asking_ for you to die or mysteriously disappear. Or they might come after someone you love.”

Wren’s eyes snapped to Rhett’s. “So, what do you suggest I do?”

“Go back to them willingly,” said Rhett.

Wren’s heart recoiled. “You’re insane. I am never going back to them.”

“Hang on,” said Rhett. He held up his hands, palms forward. “Go back to them, but as an undercover CIA agent.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “What, be a double agent?”

“Yes.”

“Prometheus won’t trust me to get close enough to learn anything important.”

“Maybe not right away. But they could. Go back, and we can bring them down.”

Wren folded her arms. “What’s the CIA’s interest in bringing down Prometheus, if they’ve still got government backing?”

Rhett shook his head. “I can’t tell you anything unless you sign on. We need to find something shady enough that the government drops them, and CIA already has an angle we’re working on. You could be the key to bringing them down, Wren. If the government drops them, they’ll be powerless to come after you.”

Wren choked. She closed her eyes as tears welled up. Rhett was right. She wouldn’t be truly safe from Prometheus until they were dealt with. But she would have to leave her family and friends to do it.

“I know this isn’t an easy decision. The Prometheus agent arrives tomorrow. You’ll have to decide by then, at least. And remember, you have to make your departure convincing.”

Wren looked up at him. “I know how the game works.”

Rhett’s lips twisted. “I know.” He opened the front door. “Just think about it.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren took a taxi to Hank’s while everyone was at work. She used her key to enter the house. Sumo woofed at her when she entered. He laid his head on his massive paws and let out a low whine. Wren crouched beside him and pet him. She trekked into Hank’s room and searched the drawers for pen and paper. It was easy enough to find; Hank was far more sentimental than he let on.

Wren entered Connor’s room and wrote a letter. She swallowed the bile rising into her chest and ignored the pressure building behind her eyes. She folded up the paper and opened up the framed picture of Connor and her. She stuck the letter behind the picture and replaced the back of the frame.

She returned home and waited for Tina to get back from the DPD. Her stomach twisted itself into knots. Her heart beat so fast she felt it thrumming in her neck. She buried her face in her hands and tried not to cry.

When Tina returned home, she stopped by the living room, her brow furrowed. “I thought you were going to Hank’s tonight?”

Wren lifted her head. “I am.”

Tina’s frown deepened and she sank onto the couch. “Are you okay?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Tina nodded. “Yeah, anything.”

“If there was something to do that you knew was the right thing, but doing it meant hurting some people you love, would you do it?” Wren avoided Tina’s gaze.

“Wren, is this about how I reacted to the whole cyborg thing? If it is, I’m really sorry, I understand now—”

“No, this is just a hypothetical.”

“Why is this hypothetical making you miserable?” Tina demanded. “Wren, you’re freaking me out.”

Wren placed her fingers to her lips. “Sorry. It was… It was just a nightmare. Anxiety.”

“I would do the right thing,” murmured Tina. Wren looked at her. Tina pinched her brow. “It might hurt your loved ones, but… I think they’d understand. If it’s the right thing, you should do it.”

Wren’s heart plummeted. She wanted to throw up, or scream, or cry. Returning to Prometheus, leaving her friends, her family, breaking Connor’s heart—it was the last thing she wanted. But she also wanted to burn Prometheus to the ground. Nausea wrenched her stomach every time she thought about killing those cyborgs. It hadn’t been their choice to attack her—they had yet to deviate and break their conditioning—and Atlas led them astray. Atlas called them his “squadron” which meant more squadrons of cyborgs existed. She might could save them, but it would take her returning to Prometheus, gaining their trust, and eventually discovering something to dismantle the organization. It was the right thing to do.

Wren’s lips tugged. “You know that I’m not mad at you, right?”

Tina nodded. “Yeah. Chloe told me you were upset when you came by, and you got kind of mad, but… I know. You know I’m not mad at you?”

“Yeah,” Wren smiled, “I know.” She hugged Tina and then took a cab to Hank’s house.

Hank ordered pizza, and the two of them ate while Connor set up the next _Star Wars_ movie. Then, the three of them piled together on the couch and watched the movie. Wren leaned into Connor. Her heart throbbed. She wished she could dig into her chest and rip it out to stop the pain. After the movie, Hank drifted off to bed. Wren watched him go, her eyes pricking.

In Connor’s bed, Wren hugged him tightly. “You know I love you, right?”

Connor’s LED flickered in the darkness. “I know. I love you, too.”

Wren laid her head on his chest. She pretended to sleep, but the way her insides quivered kept her awake.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

At work the next day, Wren flinched at every loud sound. She checked the elevator every few seconds to check if Rhett and the Prometheus agent arrived. Her nightmare unfolded at precisely two in the afternoon.

A petite woman with a sleek bob haircut stepped off the elevator. Rhett walked with her, looking like he were at a funeral. He avoided Wren’s gaze. Hank faced the Prometheus agent and crossed his arms.

Connor straightened in his seat and stared at Rhett and the agent, remaining absolutely still. His LED flickered.

Tina, Gavin, and Chris watched. Tina squared her shoulders, ready to fight. Wren’s chest swelled in gratitude while her stomach knotted.

The woman regarded Wren coldly. “CY001, I am Pauline Thomas. I’m sure Agent Anson briefed you on my arrival.”

“He mentioned it.”

“I would like to have a private word with you. Is there somewhere we can speak alone?”

“I’d like to remind you, Mrs. Thomas, that I am to accompany you and CY001.”

Pauline Thomas worked her jaw. “Yes, Agent Anson, I am aware of the CIA’s _disappointment_. 01, if you will.” She gestured for Wren to escort her.

Wren stood from her seat, trembling. Connor caught her wrist as she walked past. Wren looked down at him. His LED circled yellow. “Remember that we can fight this.”

Wren nodded. Connor released her. Wren took Rhett and Pauline to the roof, where there were no cameras.

Pauline’s heels clacked the concrete in a way that grated on Wren’s nerves. Pauline looked at the skyline before spinning on her heel to face Wren. “Agent Anson informed me on your willingness to cooperate and return to Prometheus.”

“Let me make this clear,” Wren snapped, “the only reason I am willing to cooperate is because I know that even if I will be free, Prometheus will never leave me or my friends and family alone. Prometheus must _never_ come near them.”

Pauline dipped her head. “Deal.”

“And you can’t recondition me or try to wipe my memory. None of that bullshit. If I work for you, I work as an agent, not a fucking prisoner.”

“Well, you’re deviant now. Even if we wanted to wipe your memory, we couldn’t. Montgomery had a… different approach to his conditioning than many Prometheus supervisors. You won’t be reconditioned or brainwashed, or any other horrors you have in your head.”

Wren glanced at Rhett before returning her gaze to Pauline. “And they all think I’m ready to fight this. It’s up to you to figure out why I’m not going to, got it? I’m not going to lie to them. That’s your job.”

Pauline narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Anything else?”

“CIA wants to keep in contact with Prometheus, as well as Wren and whatever squadron she works with. Obviously, since she was one of Montgomery’s… CIA will be keeping an eye on all of you. Prometheus has risked national security. You’re on thin ice.”

Pauline sucked her teeth and looked at the ground. “I’m well aware, Agent Anson.” She lifted her head. “Let’s inform your friends, shall we?”

Wren wanted to vomit. She tried to control her shivering in the elevator. She bowed her head as she followed Pauline and Rhett to the HAD cluster of desks.

“I’m sure all of you are aware that you must keep what happened entirely confidential and among yourselves. Unfortunately, whatever CY001 told you cannot be undone, so we are trusting all of you to remain quiet. Do you understand?” Pauline eyed them coldly.

“Yeah, we’re not idiots,” said Gavin.

“And your decision on Wren?” Hank queried.

“CY001 is returning to Prometheus effective immediately.”

Wren’s eyes slid shut as coldness spread throughout her body.

“What? No fuckin’ way,” snarled Hank. Wren looked up as he jumped from his chair. “You’re not taking her.”

“Yeah, you can’t just take her away!” Tina snapped.

“Actually, I can,” said Pauline. She withdrew a tablet from her large purse and fiddled around on it. She showed them what looked like a document. At the bottom was Wren’s signature. Heat whipped down Wren’s back. She tried to act like she had seen this before, but in truth, she had never laid eyes on this document. She didn’t even remember signing a document. “As per her contract, she owes several more years of service. CY001 agreed to join Prometheus as payment for the mechanisms that keep her alive. Prometheus saved her life, so she owes us hers.”

“She doesn’t owe you shit!” Hank seethed.

“She broke through programming, right?” said Chris. “That means she’s a deviant. There are laws that protect deviants.”

“She is not an android.” Pauline enunciated each word with cold finality.

“So, what? You’re just gonna drag her back, kicking and screaming? We can get her a lawyer—”

“No, she is going to come willingly. There’s no need to involve legal action.”

“She’s not gonna go willingly,” sneered Tina. “This is such bullshit!”

Wren’s eyes flicked to each of her team members’ faces, except for Connor’s. She couldn’t bear to look at him.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way. CY001 still owes her payment for her biocomponents, mechanical limbs and surgery. If she wants to be free now, if you want to get a lawyer, by all means, go ahead. We can just take those things keeping her alive away.” Pauline smirked as she looked at Wren.

“Wren,” muttered Connor. Wren looked at him. She never noticed him stand. His brow creased and his lips parted. His LED swirled red. “Her name is Wren.”

“It doesn’t matter what name she goes by here. To Prometheus, she is CY001.” Pauline glanced at Wren. “You have five minutes to say your goodbyes.”

Wren’s stomach lurched. She stumbled toward her team, her friends, her _family_.

Chris gripped her shoulders. “This isn’t goodbye forever. Okay? We’ll see you on the other side of all this.”

Wren nodded. She hugged him. Her body moved slowly to face Gavin, who pressed his lips together. He shook his head and then pulled Wren into a hug.

“Stay strong, Red.”

Wren pulled away and faced Tina, whose eyes were red. Wren pulled her friend in for a hug. “Take care of Connor.”

“Take care of yourself,” Tina breathed back. They parted. Tina blinked, and tears dripped down her cheeks. “Some nightmare, huh?”

Wren lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Tina murmured, gripping Wren’s arm, “if… If it’s the _right thing_ … I’ll tell North and the others.”

Wren’s eyes flashed to Tina’s. She blinked back tears and hugged her friend again. Then, she faced Hank and her heart nearly crumpled like an empty soda can.

Hank opened and closed his mouth. Wren threw her arms around him, and he let out a soft oof. He hugged Wren tightly. “Hang in there, kid. We will get you out. We’ll find a lawyer or something. I promise.”

Wren withdrew and shook her head. “No, don’t get involved. Please. Not… Not like that.”

Hank’s brow puckered. “You can’t expect me to let those shitbags win, can you?”

Wren smiled weakly. “Just… Don’t put yourself on their radar. Please, Hank. I couldn’t bear it if you guys got hurt trying to save me.”

“Yeah, and I can’t stand watching you go back to them without a fight. What’s the deal, huh?” Hank snapped.

Tears filled Wren’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

At last, she faced Connor. The look in his eyes knocked the breath from her lungs. His jaw was set and his eyes seemed hard as they looked away from her. The tension in his face revealed his attempt to control himself.

“Time’s nearly up,” called Pauline.

Wren cupped Connor’s face in her hands. His eyes lifted to meet hers.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” he whimpered.

Wren’s heart broke. She closed her eyes and tears splashed down her cheeks. “One day you’ll understand.” She opened her eyes. “I love you, more than anything. I’ll never forget you.” She thought of the letter hidden in the picture frame. “I’ll never forget the day we took that picture in the park.” Connor’s brow pinched. Wren dropped her hands from his face. “Please don’t forget me.”

Connor’s face crumpled. He pulled her close to him. “Never. I-I love you. So much.” Tears welled in his eyes.

Wren wanted to scream at Pauline, to beg Rhett to help her, to make herself stay and forget Prometheus, but she couldn’t. Wren hugged Connor, and he buried his face in her shoulder, clutching her tightly.

“Time to go,” said Pauline.

Wren squeezed Connor tighter and then let go. She turned her back on her loved ones and followed Prometheus to the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's a wrap on Part 1! Part 2 will be coming soon (official title is Of Red and Blue Blood).   
> Thank you so so so so much for all the comments, likes, bookmarks, etc!!! They all encourage me, but the comments are especially uplifting, and I'm always overwhelmed with the amount of kindness and positive feedback (and the constructive criticism), and how much you guys speculate what's going to happen next, the love you guys have for Connor and Wren, and even Tina and Chloe, and North!!! I can't express to you guys how much your comments mean to me! Part 1 was 543 pages in my Word Document. That's a lot of work, but all of you helped make it ten times better (I thoroughly enjoyed writing this and can't wait to continue it!) I hope you guys continue your support for this series by following on to Part 2!


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